


First we feel. Then we fall.

by dolly_donut



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort/Angst, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Violence, Waterboarding, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 24,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolly_donut/pseuds/dolly_donut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Agent Alex North is captured and effectively lost in action in an abortive SHIELD mission in Syria, Clint Barton and Phil Coulson have to live with survivor's guilt and the feelings of responsibility for the fate that befalls the younger agent. Will it pull them together or push them apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Only the lovely Agent Alex North belongs to me. Any recognizable characters belong to the Marvel universe, however sad this makes me!
> 
> My first foray into Archive of our Own and the Marvel fandoms. Please be nice :)

Agent Phil Coulson rubbed his left hand across his jaw, feeling the stubbly three-day growth. He sat upright and stretched his back: these hospital chairs were not the most comfortable place to spend hours at a time.

He looked across the prone figure in the bed to the beeping and flashing machines on the opposite side. Coulson watched the artificial breathing apparatus rise and fall and noted the corresponding rise and fall of the girl’s chest.

Stiffly, he stood and approached the bed, reached out his hand and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. God, she was beautiful, despite the cuts and bruises. His fingers traced the stitches across her forehead, as he willed her to open her eyes. His face burnt with the injustice of it, his heart burnt with the incredible guilt that he was feeling. This was his agent, he was her handler. Yet there was a very real possibility that Agent Alex North would never open her eyes again.

From his position at the bedside, he could see Agent Barton on a bed roll, asleep, on the floor on the other side of the bed. Barton’s face was more relaxed than he had seen it in weeks. Despite the toll that the last few days had obviously had on the agent, the relief to finally get North back was evident, even in his sleep. He had refused to leave. Even Director Fury had given up trying to make him. He was a stubborn bastard when he wanted to be. Coulson smiled wryly, recognizing his own traits in his agent.

\-----oo00oo------

_It should have been a simple mission: to go in and extract a SHIELD scientist below the radar. Coulson knew that Syria was a hotbed of terrorist activity and he knew that the agent he sent in would need to be low-key, if not invisible._

_Unable to infiltrate Syrian airspace for fear of an international incident, the Globemaster had taken them as far as a small airfield in the south of Turkey. From there, he’d stayed aboard The Bus, whilst North went ‘native’ and was taken as far as Damascus by sympathetic insurgents under the lead of an Iraqi-based SHIELD agent._

_Coulson never for a second doubted her capabilities. He had trained her personally, had worked her hard from the day that she had stepped foot in SHIELD headquarters in New York, six years ago at the age of 19. Agent Clint Barton had worked tirelessly with her closely, passing on knowledge and sparring on a daily basis. He could see the potential that Coulson saw. Now Alex North was top in her field. She was literally unsurpassable._

_Knowing what the mission involved, Coulson had no hesitation in recommending North and when planning it, he had taken all knowable risks into account in his plans. But to have it go so spectacularly wrong made him question is own abilities as a handler. He could never have factored in the events that were to take place, that were to lead to her being lost in action for nearly three weeks._

_Before leaving the Bus North had ‘dirtied’ up to disguise her Western-ness. She had pulled on black camouflage combat trousers, an old t-shirt and jacket and had twisted her dark hair up under a keffiyeh. She fitted her tiny earpiece into position and tucked her standard issue Smith & Wesson M&P into her belt in the small of her back. Coulson had sat and watched her, still running through the finer points of the mission._

_“And you keep up comms until I say, got it?” Coulson stated. “If you need to go dark then you tell me first, right? I don’t want to be in a situation where I don’t know what’s going on.”_

_She lifted an eyebrow, acknowledging an instruction that he has given countless times in the last three days._

_“Barton will be three hours behind you at most, I’ll tell you when he’s in position and when you can go in.”_

_“Christ, Phil, I know! There is not one stage of this plan that I do not know backwards and forwards and inside out. Give me some fucking credit, will you!” Her eyes flashed, annoyed at the perceived doubt in her abilities._

_Coulson kneeled beside her and touched her arm. Their eyes met. ”Just take care, Alex, OK?”_

_She softened and she bit her lip. “Always.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, any recognizable characters belong to the Marvel universe. They are not mine and will never be. *sob* *sniff*

When Barton woke he could see Stark and Coulson through the door of the hospital room, talking to a doctor in the corridor. Stark looked agitated and angry, his normally jovial nature and mask of indifference pushed to the limit by the current situation. Stark cared as much about North as all of the Avengers. She was a part of the team, a part of them and her character was intrinsic to the way they all rubbed along together.

North bridged the gulf between Stark and Cap. She eased them through their spats with her gentle cajoling and sense of fun. She worked alongside Banner and Stark in the R&D suites at Stark Tower, eager to learn and always happy to listen. She and Natasha were running buddies, each one encouraging the other the push their physicality one step further. They sparred frequently in the gym. The only time he saw Natasha laugh was when she was with North. And she was the only member of the team that Coulson was happy to have perched on the edge of his desk whilst he worked. She’d natter about the team, eat his donuts and drink his coffee, moan about red tape and form-filling whilst he raised his eyes at her in mock-exasperation.

God, Barton hated the smell of this place. He hated the institutionalized feeling from the generic seafoam paint scheme to the almost silent squeaks of the nurses’ shoes on the disinfected floor. Even at a private hospital like this that catered only for SHIELD agents and their families, nothing was different. It still smelt of bleach and hopelessness.

Barton rose quietly to his feet and pulled a chair closer to the bedside. He immediately felt for her hand, as it lay across her chest. She was warm to the touch, but the placement of the cannula in the back of her hand had added to the bruises on her body. He had no idea how she was still alive. Sheer fucking bloody-mindedness, he suspected.

When Barton had finally found her, on day 18, she was in a hell of a state. On a surface level he had done a quick assessment of her visible injuries. She had lost weight, her cheeks were gaunt and her eyes sunken. She was barely conscious, wearing a bloodied white vest and underwear. He could see blood oozing down her right shoulder and also further down on her abdomen. Her face was a catalogue of cuts and bruises. Her dark hair had been hacked short and there were numerous contusions of her arms and legs. Her eyes were closed, her hands tied behind her back. For a heart-stopping moment, Barton didn’t think that she was breathing until he heard a shuddering wheeze, indicating that she was still there and still fighting.

He had cut through her bindings, scooped her up, and made his way outside, stepping over the bodies of regime soldiers who had tried to stand between him and her.

But the injuries that were not so visible, the broken ribs, the punctured lung, were so much more severe than that and Bruce had had a real battle on his hands to stabilize her once they’d reached the Helicarrier.

And Barton could do nothing but watch. He had stood by, as Bruce restarted her heart, as Bruce stopped the blood flow from the bullet wound in her left shoulder, as Bruce fought to bring her temperature down from the raging infection that was holding her body hostage. Barton had stood by, mutely watching the flurried activity, unable to offer assistance, too in shock to cope.

He had remained that way until Coulson had carefully put an arm around his shoulders and led him off to get cleaned up and debriefed, whilst the Helicarrier sped its way back to SHIELD HQ and the private hospital attached to Stark Tower. Barton had briefly rested his head on Coulson’s shoulder, appreciating the comfort of his touch.

That was two days ago and Barton had barely left her side in that time. Whilst the others had been in and out during that time, their time was also being taken up with damage-limitation after the failed extraction exercise. However, Coulson had been a frequent visitor, often falling asleep in the chair by the side of the bed, tapping away on his laptop or scribbling in his notebook until the small hours. Barton had no doubt that Coulson felt the same level of guilt that he himself did. He had promised to be there and he had broken that promise. He had failed her.

\-----oo00oo------


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel universe? Nope, still not mine. Never claimed it was.

_“Polaris, confirm comms,” Coulson barked into his earpiece. It had been four hours since North had left and she should be approaching Damascus._

_“Vision, confirm.” He was relieved to hear the comms working perfectly, even more relived to hear her voice._

_‘Hawkeye is on his way to you under separate cover. He’ll make contact when he’s in position. Confirm your location.”_

_“Approximately three clicks west of Damascus. We should be at the safe house within the hour.” She sounded keen and competent. She knew that there was a life in danger and that they had one chance to get him out without starting an international incident. Moreover, she knew that the information that the SHIELD scientist carried was highly classified and in the wrong hands could lead to the devastation of the West and life as they know it._

_“Good. Comms out.” Coulson was succinct and clipped._

_Agent Alex North pressed the tiny button on her earpierce, muting her direct route to Couslon. She needed to concentrate and she needed to keep her head. The battered Jeep that was serving as transport was uncomfortable to say the least, but they were passing unnoticed, which was the intention._

_It was starting to get dark and she knew that the cover of darkness was her friend. She was due to be in position by 2130 hours, to make contact with Hawkeye and to complete the mission and be offsite by 2215 hours at the very latest. The Agusta Westland chopper at the extraction site was a one time only deal. If she missed the evac, she knew that another one wouldn’t be arriving any time soon._

_North ghosted her hand across her face, clearing some of the dust that was intrinsically a part of the road and the Jeep itself. She sat in the back, with two local insurgents, the front seats occupied by the SHIELD agent based in neighboring Iraq, John Brennan, and the driver, another rebel._

_Agent Brennan wasn’t happy to be here, he had told her as much. He was less happy to be sending her in to a situation, which he felt inherently, called for what he called “a more experienced agent” but which she felt sure meant, “a man.” North had long given up defending her role and her position, choosing to let her performance do the talking._

_Brennan twisted in his seat to look at North. “We’re approaching Red safe house now. We’ll be stopping there for a short time to allow Hawkeye to get into position.”_

_North acknowledged this with a brief nod of her head and leaned forward to peer through the windscreen of the Jeep. She could hardly make out anything through the dust on the barrenness of the straight road._

\-----oo00oo------

“I’m sorry that I can’t give you better news, Agent Coulson,” the doctor said as he shook his head. “It’s going to be incredibly difficult to bring her back from the level of injuries that she has. Maybe one of the injuries alone, her body could cope with, but the sheer catalogue of problems means that her body is just giving up.”

Coulson pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Stark was less reserved.

“Whilst I’m loving your optimism, Doc Ock, we’re going to need some better fucking news than that!” Stark’s hand shot out towards the doctor’s collar, but Coulson’s hand closed over Stark’s arm first, stopping him in his tracks.

‘Tony, it’s not his fault. You can’t shoot the messenger.” Stark let his hand fall, Coulson’s arm providing a barrier across his body, between him and the doctor.

The doctor looked between Stark and Coulson nervously and took a small step backwards. “I’m sorry that I can’t give you better news, Agent Coulson. The best thing for her is to rest and heal. We’ll try to bring her out of the induced coma on Friday and then it’s up to her. I really don’t think that there’s anything more we can do.”

The doctor turned on his heel and walked away. Stark glanced into North’s hospital room and saw Barton standing by the side of her bed, watching the interaction with the doctor. Barton’s brow was furrowed. Whilst Stark knew that Barton could not have heard the doctor’s words, the archer was adept in reading body language and would surely know the summary of the conversation that had just taken place.

Stark felt bad for him, not that he would ever impart that information to Barton. He could see that Barton felt responsibility for the situation, where no blame should be apportioned.

“Aw, shit, Coulson, what do we say to him? I’m no good at this touchy-feely emotional crap. Just ask Pepper.” Stark shook his head. “I can, however, get coffee.  Well, actually I can get Happy to get coffee, which is almost the same thing.”

“Go get coffee, Tony. I don’t think we need to talk to Barton at all. He knows. But I could sure kill a cup of coffee right now and I’m pretty sure that Barton will welcome a dose of caffeine too.”

Their eyes met and Stark smiled briefly. “You go easy, Coulson. The last thing that we need right now is you on another enforced Tahiti break.” He strode off towards the elevator, leaving Coulson in the corridor.

Coulson squared his shoulders and turned the handle of North’s hospital room.

\-----oo00oo------


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still don't own the Marvel Universe or its contents. Boo.

_North was cleaning her weapon. Again. They had been at the safe house for nearly an hour. She was waiting to hear from Barton to confirm his position. The plan called for him to be due west of the target, on an outcrop of rocks. From there he would be able to see the majority of the compound and be able to support North in her entry and exit._

_SHIELD’s intelligence suggested that the missing scientist was in an outbuilding towards the back of the complex. There would be up to 17 members of the Syrian army on guard against insurgent attacks. Coulson’s plan was avoid engaging the enemy as much as possible, to retrieve the scientist, make contact with Barton and hightail it to the extraction site to coincide with the arrival of the Agusta as much as possible. Sounded really simple on paper._

_“Vision, Polaris, confirm comms. Hawkeye in position.” Barton’s voice came through North’s earpiece. At last. North’s impatience was showing, she twitched to get going._

_“Polaris, confirm your timing.” North checked her titanium SINN, a gift from Tony Stark, and turned the chronograph slightly. “Synced at 2117 hours.”_

_“Hawkeye?’ Coulson questioned._

_“Synced.”_

_“Polaris, you are good to go. And for fuck’s sake be careful.”_

_“Roger that, Vision.” North smiled and replaced her Smith & Wesson into the waist band of her tactical pants, backing it up with a Glock in a shoulder holster. She shrugged into her Blackhawk Operations jacket and strapped a small Gerber knife to her right calf. She knew that she was effectively bringing a cap gun to a firefight, but she has faith in Hawkeye that he would provide all the cover that she would need. As far as she was concerned, her role would employ little or no hand-to-hand fighting._

_North glanced around the safehouse. The two insurgents had disappeared and the driver had taken the Jeep. Agent John Brennan was playing solitaire at a table in the kitchenette. North strode over._

_“Brennan, thanks.” She held out her hand and he stood up and shook it._

_“Take care.”_

_“You too.”_

_Brennan sat back down, his attention almost immediately back to his deck of cards._

\-----oo00oo------ 

Stark found Bruce Banner having coffee in the small diner next to the hospital at the very base of Stark Tower. Although the hospital had it’s own café, Banner preferred something a bit more anonymous, where the staff and patrons didn’t look at him with fear and suspicion, always awaiting the tinge of green that would signal the arrival of The Other Guy.

Stark slid into the booth opposite Banner and looked around for the waitress. Locating her, he caught her eye mouthed “Coffee.” She smiled and bustled off to brew him a cup.

Banner put the sheaf of papers he was studying down, took off his glasses and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He’d been burning the candle at both ends this week, trying desperately to counteract the damage done by Professor MacLeod’s betrayal and defection. He and Stark had been working late into the night on a regular basis and it was beginning to take its toll on both of them.

The waitress arrived and placed a steaming Americano in front of Stark. "On the house” she beamed. Mr Stark was, after all, their next-door neighbor. “Let me know when you need a refill. There’s a pot of extra strong on the go just for you.”

“Thanks,” Stark acknowledged. “And top up the big guy here, will you? He’s exhausted, what with the whole ‘being a hero’ deal!”

Banner raised his eyes sardonically at Stark. Banner covered his cup with his hand and shook his head slightly at the waitress. “I’m good, thanks. Have to watch the caffeine intact. Gives me the jitters.”

The waitress smiled and returned to the counter where she resumed serving customers and chatting with the chef.

Stark looked around. “It’s good to be anonymous, huh? Not that I would know, of course. Being me.”

Stark took a long swig of his coffee. “So what kind of shape are we in with the whole MacLeod epic shitstorm?”

“I’ve tried to complete the work that he undertook here, before Syria, using the formula that he put together. But I only have about half of the equation. The rest is in his head. Right now he has the jump on us in recreating the ionic energy mass from the Tesseract  and we’ve got….”

“A huge bowl of jack shit!” Stark interjected. 

“Well, no. I have the molecular structure in place, but I can’t stabilize it.”

“Ah, that would account for Pepper having to call in the redecorators in R&D 4.”

Banner smiled sheepishly. “I’m just not convinced that we’re going the right way about it. If one guy invents a big pointy stick that can destroy the world and gives it to the bad guys, what do we achieve by creating an equally pointy stick and waving it at them? Don’t we just end up with all out Armageddon?”

“But we won’t be handing anything to SHIELD. Much like our friend MacLeod will be handing anything to the Syrian government. Having two sources of the compound negates the effects, it effectively generates… “

“An entire fusion vacuum!” Banner looked at Stark, understanding blossoming. “Why didn’t I see that?”

“Because all work and no play makes Bruce a dull boy. You’re tired. Take some time. Walk in the park. Go see a movie. Release some tension in a totally non-green and violent way. I’ll go take a look at some of your equations, see if I can figure out a work-around.”  Stark took a $20 dollar note from his wallet and tucked it under his coffee cup. “Right after I get some take-out caffeine for Agent Phil and Legolas the Boy Wonder.”

As Stark went to slide his way out of the booth, Banner spoke “No, I’ll do the coffee run. Be good to do something of minimal intellectual necessity. And I should visit Alex. I’ve been putting it off. How’s she looking?”

“Not the best.” A shadow passed across Stark’s face. “But she’s a fighter.”

Banner nodded. “Right, coffee. Strong and black, I imagine.” He pushed his notes across the table to Stark and approached the counter.

\-----oo00oo------


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Marvel Universe and the recognisable characters are not mine :(

_It was cold outside. North paused to push a stray strand of hair under her black cap and was then off, moving south towards the compound, as quiet as a cat in the night. There were lights in the night sky, but not close enough to bother her. She could hear the faint sound of gunfire, probably from Damascus city itself. She hoped that the rebel activity would provide a distraction for her own mission. She raised her night vision monocular to her eye, checking for the trail._

_“I’m on the move, Vision,” North spoke softly. “Hawkeye, standby.”_

_She could almost hear Barton cock an eyebrow. “Standing by, Polaris. Currently night vision shows that the compound is guarded on a cyclical ten-minute basis by two patrols. I’m timing it for you. You’ll move in as soon as the patrol has passed. I give you two cycles and then I’m in after you.”_

_“Won’t be necessary, Hawkeye.” North was moving quickly and quietly in the sandy dust. She was almost at the perimeter fence._

_The compound was ringed by razor wire, attached to electrified fencing. Intelligence had pinpointed the remote energizer that carried the electric pulse along the wire. Using the dim light from the buildings, North amended her direction slightly and headed along the perimeter fence._

_“Hawkeye, you should have a visual any second now.” North whispered. She moved stealthily along the fence line, until she reached a small black box, set so far down that it almost disappeared into the sandy soil._

_“Yep, got you in sight, Polaris. Looking good. Are you at the energizer?”_

_North dropped to one knee next to the box and silently prised the cover off._

_“Just about to neutralize it.” She took a small rubber casing from a pocket on her combat pants and twisted it slightly. Deftly she slotted it between two wires within the energizer box and then pulled the small stake from the ground in front of the box. She waited, holding her breath. Intelligence was unable to tell them if the fence was also alarmed. If it was, she was going to have to move pretty fucking quickly any second now._

_She waited._

_“Clear.” Hawkeye’s voice in her ear. Slowly she breathed out, unaware that she had been holding her breath._

_North reached into her pocket and found the tiny wire cutters and began to snip a gap in the fence, no more than one foot tall and two feet wide. Any more may be visible from the compound itself._

_North wriggled through the opening in the fence and stayed low, assessing the situation._

_“Hawkeye? Where are we on the guard cycle?”_

_“97 seconds and then you’re clear to advance. I’ve got your six. On my mark.”_

_North crouched low. She could smell the acrid scent of graphite, cement and nitroglycerin in the cold air. She could hear the faint pops of weapons discharging in Damascus. She couldn’t wait to get this mission over with. SHIELD Agents, no matter their training and specialisms, were not meant to be in war zones._

_A voice in her ear. “And 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. You’re good to go, Polaris.”_

_“Roger that, Hawkeye.” She could almost hear the indistinct breathing of Coulson on the comms link. She knew that he was right there with them both._

_Crouching low, North advanced towards the main building of the compound. She kept her footsteps light and willed her heart to stop beating so loudly. Reaching the wall, she pressed herself flush against the brickwork and began to make her way northwards, towards the outbuildings at the rear of the complex._

_She reached the corner of the building and paused as she squatted low and looked around the corner. Even if one of the guards suspected something, no one would be looking for movement two feet from the ground._

_Reaching for her night vision monocular, she carefully scanned the area. It was quiet, eerily so. She had expected a much heavier presence. Did they really believe that they would be able to hide Professor MacLeod from all intelligence and not expect an attempt to free him? It made no sense._

_She replaced the monocular and, staying low, she moved forward towards the crop of wooden outbuildings. Most of the windows were boarded up on them, affording North no clues as to the contents. She slipped down a small bank to the first structure and paused to the left of the door, her ear to the wood. No voices, no hum of electronic equipment, no nothing._

_North moved swiftly to the next structure. This looked more promising. She could see a slice of dim light spilling out from under the door. She stood to the left of the door, listening intently. She could make out a vague droning sound and could feel vibrations on the wood. She drew her Smith & Wesson and reached across to the handle. Turning it slightly, she was surprised to feel it give._

_“Polaris, you’re at 810. You should expect company in approximately 150.” The guard rounds._

_“Roger that,” North hissed._

_Turning the handle completely, she pushed against the door with her elbow. It opened an inch or so, allowing her to make a better evaluation. No voices, but definitely the hum of equipment._

_She eased the door open another foot and moved silently through it._

\-----oo00oo------


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel isn't mine. Yada yada.

Captain Steve Rogers hit the punch bag with almost enough force to send it flying across the gym, had it not been for the fact that Stark had reinforced all the chains and beams to avoid just such incidents.  

Head down, Steve was working up a head of steam and working off the stress of the last couple of weeks.

_Thump, thump, thump. Left, right, left._ The muscles in Steve’s back stood out as he pummeled the punch bag, the sweat making his shirtless body glisten in the harsh lights of the gym.

He rested his head against the punch bag for a few beats, gathering his thoughts and trying to push them to the back of his mind, trying to concentrate on the physicality of the moment. 

Steve had been spending more and more time in the gym. He felt, in effect, like a spare part. He couldn’t help Stark and Dr Banner with their research, Thor was on Asgard and Natasha was spending most of her time at the shooting range, honing her already perfect skills.

It had felt good to be there when they recovered Agent North... Alex... and to work as part of the team again. The Avengers had been off-kilter in the last three weeks with the disappearance of one of their own. However, any hope that things would go back to normal had been dashed when they realized the condition of their colleague. She was alive, yes, but for how long Steve didn’t know.

Seeing Dr Banner having to work so hard on the helicarrier to save her life had angered Steve so much. What kind of God-awful world was this, where women could be treated like that? Oh, he knows her role and her capabilities but his inherent 1940-ness was difficult to shake off. He’d felt like storming back into that enemy stronghold and wiping them all out but Fury’s maddening common sense prevailed.

As it had happened, he hadn’t needed to. Stark was less beholden to Fury and had strapped on his Mk V11 suit and blown the entire base and everyone left in it to Hell. Turns out that Stark disliked bullies as much as he himself did.

Steve drew back his fist, about to begin another round. Then he let his hand fall.

”JARVIS, where is everyone?” Steve asked Stark’s computerized A.I. butler. 

“By ‘everyone’ I assume that you mean the other Avengers, Sir?” JARVIS’ response was immediate and courteous. “Agent Barton is at the hospital with Agent North, Dr Banner is at Dolly’s Diner at 198 Park Avenue buying coffee, Agent Romanoff is in Sleeping Quarters 2 and Mr Stark is currently one floor below in Research and Development Suite 4.”

Steve considered this for a moment.

“Is there any update on Alex’s condition?” Steve asked as he sat down on the gym bench and began to unwind the strapping from around his hands.

“No, Sir. There has been no change in her vital signs.” If it was possible for JARVIS to sound disappointed then he surely sounded saddened now.

“You will let me know if anything happens, won’t you, JARVIS?”

“Certainly, Sir. If I may be so bold as to suggest that you visit Mr Stark in R&D4 where it appears that he is about to ignite the lab. I fear that Ms Potts may be somewhat annoyed if this were to happen, given that the decorators only left 45 minutes ago.”

“Sure, JARVIS.” Steve smiled briefly, toweled off and pulled his SHIELD issue grey t-shirt over his head. He slung another towel around his neck and sauntered out of the gym towards the elevators.

 

\-----oo00oo------

_The light inside the outbuilding was dim, but North’s eyes became accustomed to it very quickly. She was in a small entrance hall. Off to her left was another door and to the right, a corridor led around and out of sight._

_The internal walls of the outbuilding were reinforced with sheets of steel. Odd, thought North, especially given the guard activity outside._

_She padded softly to the door on the left and placed her palm against it, trying to feel for vibrations that might indication voices. There was nothing._

_Moving away from the door, North moved to the corner of the corridor and crouched down. Peering round slightly, she could see two soldiers towards the end of the corridor. Both dressed in dark fatigues and were armed. One was sitting in a chair and the other was standing above him, lighting a cigarette for his colleague. They were talking amiably in Arabic._

_North withdrew her head and, staying crouched against the wall, she whistled softly. The soldiers stopped speaking and listened, shooting quizzical looks at one another. Both drew their Brownings and moved towards the corner._

_As they rounded the corner, North swept out her right foot and tripped the soldier closest to her. Leaping to her feet, she brought the butt of her Smith & Wesson down on the back of his head, stunning him enough to give her enough time to dodge the bullet fired from the other soldier. The round bounced off the steel wall behind her._

_Stepping round his associate who was still sprawled on the floor, gathering his senses, the soldier advanced on North swiftly, swinging his fist wildly. North feinted to the left, avoiding his fists and swung her elbow back hard, catching him the side of the head. Now behind him, she followed this up by grasping him around the neck, and twisting efficiently, separating his spinal cord between the 3 rd and 4th vertebrae, killing him instantly._

_As he dropped to the floor, North was grabbed from behind, her arms pinned to her side. Rearing forward she propelled her head backwards into the face of her assailant. His hold weakened and she slipped downwards and out of his grip. Spinning round she was just in time to block a fist flying towards her. The soldier was clearly now enraged, blood streaming down his face from his obviously broken nose._

_Making use of her smaller disposition, North through a punch at the man’s abdomen, winding him. As he doubled over, she grasped his head and brought it down hard onto her knee, rendering him unconscious._

_North quickly check both weapons, emptying out the clips on both. She was breathing heavily, but was uninjured._

_“Polaris? Report.” Coulson sounded worried._

_“All good, Vision. Two hostiles down. Hawkeye, any external reaction to the gunshot?”_

_“Nothing so far. I’ll keep you updated.”_

_North stepped over the prone bodies of the soldiers and reached the door at the end of the corridor. It ha no keyhole and appeared unlocked. She turned the handle and pushed the door open a couple of inches. The electrical hum got louder and she could hear the faint burble of a radio, tuned to a music channel. What the bloody hell was going on here?_

_\-----oo00oo------_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel's not mine. Ever.

\-----oo00oo------ 

In his office at The Hub, Director Nick Fury sat behind his unnecessarily large and intimating desk. The metal blinds were drawn and the only light came from a harsh desk lamp. His expression was dark, his brow furrowed, the black leather patch across his left eye only adding to the ferocity of his countenance. A large touch controlled holographic computer interface sat in front of him, but Fury wasn’t paying attention to the scrolling files, folders and numbers that appeared on the screen.

Pressing a button on the console in front of him, he barked “Ms Smith, in here.” After some hesitation, he added “Please.” He had handpicked his secretary for her no nonsense attitude, but that also meant that he had to remind himself to treat her with a certain level of deference. He had no wish to suddenly find she had block-booked him into a Level 1 Agent Customer Service course.

The infinitely capable Carla Smith glided into Fury’s office, the stilettos only making the faintest of ‘clacking’ sounds on the hard floor. Shutting the door behind her, she approached his desk, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose and smoothing her stylish, yet professional, pencil skirt down.

Aged 35, Carla smith had worked at SHIELD for six years now, beginning in the Tech Division on the main floor of The Hub before rising to her present position. She was widely considered as the only person who could stop Director Fury with a single look when he was in full flow.

Fury met her eyes “Ah, Ms Smith, thank you for coming so swiftly. Could you kindly go to Research and Development and ask Benny Pollack to report to me immediately please?”

“Is there a problem with your holo-com system, Sir?” Smith asked indicating the internal communications device on his desk with a brief flick of her hand.  

“Not in the slightest. I don’t want any electronic record of my discussion of Dr Pollack to remain on the system.” Fury looked her squarely in the eye, daring her to question his motives.

 “I will fetch him straight away for you, Sir.” Smith turned and clacked back to the door of Fury’s office. At the door, her hand on the handle, she glanced back at Fury. He had not moved, but his eyes were now closed. She left the office.

\-----oo00oo------

_The lights were brighter here. Seeing no immediate threat, North holstered her Smith & Wesson and moved further into the room. It was a laboratory, a fucking full on research laboratory. SHIELD intelligence had said nothing about this._

_North scanned the room. For all intents and purposes it was a near on replica of the lab at Stark Tower. And that included the figure of Professor Andrew MacLeod in his white lab coat, ever-present pencil still behind his ear, that North could now see on the far side of the room. MacLeod was beavering away, tapping an Erienmeyer flask to mix the contents, whilst jotting something down on the pad on the bench in front of him. North could see no hostiles in the room._

_“Professor MacLeod?” North’s voice was louder than she intended._

_Andrew MacLeod was startled by her voice. He had obviously been so absorbed in his work that he has not heard the scuffle and the gunshot in the corridor. He looked up and around, dropping his pen in surprise._

_“Who’s there?” He blinked across the lab, trying to focus on the figure in front of him. His eyes were red; he’d obviously been working all hours. Other than that, North made a quick assessment and could see no obvious injuries._

_“Professor, it’s me, Agent North. From SHIELD. I’m here to take you home. We have to be quick. We have an evac plan in place but we need to be in position within…” she checked the SENN. “… 11 minutes.”_

_She closed the distance between herself and the Professor quickly, weaving between laboratory benches that had various flasks, burners and compounds set up on them. At the far end of the room was a white board filled with scientific equations and symbols._

_Professor MacLeod blinked at North. “But why would I want to leave? I have everything that I need right here.”_

_“Professor MacLeod, Andrew, you’re not thinking straight. We need to get you out of here and back to New York, back to your home.” North put her hand on the man’s arm, willing him to follow here._

_“I’m on the verge of an amazing discovery! Don’t you understand?” The Professor was frantic, shrugging off North’s hand. “If I can fuse the ions then I can make a power innumerably stronger than the Tesseract itself. I’m so close!”_

_“You can continue back in New York. Your lab at SHIELD is just as you left it.” North coaxed. “We have to go.”_

_Professor MacLeod narrowed his eyes. “Why would I want to go back there? To be a prisoner in my own lab?”_

_“But that’s what you are here!” North’s voice rose an octave and she could hear Hawkeye draw in his breath in her ear._

_“Ah, but the benefits are so much better here.” MacLeod smiled. “Can you promise to equal $17 million, Agent North? Can you?”_

_MacLeod took a step away from her as the gears in North’s head processed what was in front of her eyes and everything fell in place._

_“You were never kidnapped. This was planned. You used SHIELD and our research capabilities.”_

_“Polaris, get out now! MacLeod has been compromised!” Coulson’s voice snapped over the comm unit._

_“This is where you want to be, Professor MacLeod? That’s entirely up to you, but I can’t allow your work to continue. We can’t allow something of this magnitude to end up in potentially hostile hands. I’m sorry.” North’s hand moved to her pocket._

_“What are you going to do, kill me?” MacLeod looked taken aback._

_“No, Professor. I’m going to torch your lab. I’m sorry.” North was holding a small storm-proof flameless rope burner._

_MacLeod looked horrified. “I can’t let you do that.” His hands began to fumble on the table in front of him and North swiftly drew her Smith and Wesson, aiming it squarely at his chest._

_“Please step away, Professor MacLeod. I don’t want to hurt you if I can avoid it.” North took a small step towards MacLeod._

_“It’s too late, all too late.” MacLeod said with a smile and looked down at the desk. North followed his eyeline and spotted it: a panic button mounted in the wood._

_Shit._

_“Holy hell, Polaris, get out of there! You have multiple hostiles headed in your direction! There are alarms going off out here and the compound is alive. I repeat, follow the emergency evac plan!” North could tell that Hawkeye is only just on the right side of control._

_North flicked the lighter in her hand and tossed it into the mass of paperwork on the table and then spun on her heels towards the door._

_“NOOO!” the Professor cried, trying to put out the ensuing fire with his hands._

_North didn’t look back. She reached the door just in time to hear a deadlocking system shunt into place. She tried the handle. It didn’t move._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimer: I own nothing in the Marvel Universe.

Agent Clint Barton and Agent Phil Coulson sat together in companionable silence at the hospital coffee shop. Bruce had delivered the requested coffee and was, as far as they knew, visiting Agent North. Just as he had been persuaded by Stark to take a break, he had, in turn, persuaded the two SHIELD agents to have a change of view from North’s hospital room and the corridor just outside. Both Barton and Coulson had their eyes shut.

“Fury is expecting you in for a debriefing,” Coulson addressed Barton without actually opening his eyes.  

Barton crossed his arms across his chest and raised his legs until they rested on the chair in front of him. He crossed his ankles. “He’ll wait. Or he’ll fire me. Either way…”

Out of his Avengers uniform, Barton looked more vulnerable. He wore a grey hooded sweatshirt, a small SHIELD logo apparent on the left arm, black jeans and battered black lace up boots. His short hair was rumpled and mussed. The toll of the last three weeks was visible on his face.

Coulson opened his eyes. “You OK?”

“Not really.” Barton sounded defeated.

Coulson straightened up. This was rare admission for Barton. He was a consummate professional and was a stickler for keeping his emotions in tact. He knew, as they all did, that emotions left you exposed.

“You’re never going to win them all, Barton. You know that. What happened wasn’t your fault and…”

“That’s fucking rich coming from you! Don’t fill me with the standard line bullshit!” Barton eyes flew open and he furiously rounded on Coulson. Kicking away the chair that his feet were resting on, Barton leaned forward, closing the gap between him and his superior. “You’ve spent the last three week’s beating yourself up! And you weren’t even there; you weren’t in fuckin’ spitting distance of that compound. You didn’t watch what went down.”

“I heard everything.” Coulson’s voice was low as he struggled to hold on to his temper. “And I couldn’t do anything more than you could have done.”

Coulson and Barton glared at each other, before Barton dropped his gaze.

“It’s different…. it’s different with her. And you know that.” Barton stuttered, rubbing his hand across his forehead as if he was making an admission to himself as well as to Coulson.

“Are you saying that you have become personally involved with Agent North, Barton?” Coulson questioned, his stomach twisting.

“Yes… no... Christ, I don’t know. I don’t fuckin’ know anything any more!” Barton had given up on the effort of masking his emotions. “Phil, I don’t know.”

There was silence between the two men. Coulson reached over to the table and picked up his coffee, wrapping his hands around the cup.

“You feel the same, don’t you?" Barton looked across at Coulson.

“It always hurts when you lose an agent. I don’t think that I’d be human if I didn’t feel some responsibility. But if you wallow in guilt.. well, there’s a burn-out ahead of you and I don’t want to lose another good agent.” Coulson stopped and looked away from Barton.

Barton looked at Coulson’s profile for a long moment.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Barton’s voice grew softer, less confrontational.

Coulson swallowed hard. “Let me tell you a story.” He put his coffee up down on the table and turned in his chair to face Barton.

“Six years ago I was heading up a small team here in New York.  I was newly Level 7 – it was Fury’s way of gauging my abilities at that grade, I think. We had received intel that a top level Hydra agent was operating from a base within the subway system, somewhere under Manhattan. Our instructions were to go in, locate him and, if possible, bring him in. Myself and two other agents had been deep undercover within the subway network for a number of weeks. Christ, I remember it so well; it felt like forever since I’d actually seen daylight.

“I’d seen her on the trains a number of times. She’s pretty hard to miss, isn’t she, and, well, I’m only human, although I’m not sure that the majority of the junior agents would agree with that.” Coulson smiled ruefully.

“There seemed to be no rhyme or reason for the routes that she travelled. Sometimes she’d shuttle between Borough Hall and Lexington, other days she’d go as far as Queens, only to travel back again within the hour.

“And she’d read. Incessantly. She’d always have a book on her lap, white earbuds trailing from her ears, apparently completely absorbed in her own life.

“I started to watch her, I think, because at first she seemed implausible. I wondered if she was a Hydra contact.”

Barton was silent. He watched Coulson intently, knowing instinctively that this wasn’t something that the older agent had shared before. Hell, Coulson never shared anything!

Coulson continued. “I don’t think that I saw her eyes at all for, maybe, two weeks. Her head was always down, eyes on the book or on the ground. She’d swing her feet in those damn scruffy Converse sneakers and just watch the movement.”

Barton smiled. He was familiar with Coulson’s loathing for North’s footwear of choice.

 “Then when I was around three weeks into the detail, we found ourselves on the same train, coming in to the city from Pelham. As she stood up at Lafayette to get off, she looked me straight in the eye and I swear, Jesus, I don’t know, that she saw straight through me. As clichéd as it sounds it was like she looked straight into my soul.”

Coulson closed his eyes. Having got this far, he was loath to continue. Sharing the memory felt too much like giving a part of himself away.

“Her eyes are fucking incredible, aren’t they?” Barton said with a smile.

“Multichromatic, like liquid mica.” said Coulson. “Gave our techs in iris recognition a real job when she first joined us.”

Silence descended and both men took a draw of coffee. Barton mutely willed Coulson to continue.

“I followed her off the train onto the platform… and found myself slap bang in the middle of some kind of Hydra reunion party. I thought that she’d led me into it. I thought that she was the decoy and that I’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I was hopelessly outnumbered and I used the comm link to call the other two agents just as the radio was ripped away from me. I still don’t know if they’d heard me or not.

“Apparently the SHIELD courtesy of bringing enemy agents in alive is not a policy followed by Hydra. I managed to take out three of theirs before they broke my arm, taking my weapon. There wasn’t a lot I could do after that.

“Then she was there, like the fucking cavalry, Barton. I have never seen anything like it. She waded in, quick and slight like a goddamn Ninja, moving between them, pulling them off me, tripping them, knocking them down. I thought my concussion was playing havoc with my sensibilities.

“The wind on the platform started to pick up and you could feel the concrete start to rumble with another train approaching. Suddenly I found myself forced up and kicked onto the track. I hit my head as I went down and I had not one clue which way was up and which way was down. But I could see the lights of the train, I just couldn’t figure out how to make myself move.

“Then she was there again. I swear to God she must have flown! She covered me completely as the train passed over us both. She saved my life.

“Within no time there were transit police all over the place and Fury was incessant at the failure of the mission and the explaining that he had to do. He’d had to call in a lot of favours, I think.

“The next day she walked through the doors of The Hub with me. I didn’t even know her name. But she was too good an opportunity to pass up. It was like she’d come home.

“You pretty much know the rest. I had her assigned to you within the week.”

Coulson closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. Barton felt awkward, feeling like he’d pushed the older agent into revealing more than he’d wanted to.

When Coulson looked up there’d been a subtle change. He was back in control. “I owe her my life,” he said. “And that’s all there is. Nothing more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Difficult chapter to write, this one. Thus far, the story had almost written itself, but I'm having to work harder now! Feedback welcome.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Marvel's not mine.
> 
> Things are starting to hot up a bit now, so please heed the warnings and go play with some fluffy bunnies and kittens if you're of a delicate disposition.

_North shouldered the door but it didn’t move._

_“Vision, requesting permission to engage with the hostiles,” Hawkeye sounded frantic. “I have a clear shot.”_

_”Negative, Hawkeye! Hold your fire! We do not need an international incident here. I do not have permission for you to engage.” Coulson’s calm exterior did little to mask his concern._

_“Vision, Hawkeye, hang fire.” North inspected the steel door briefly. A quick look showed that it would take more than a bullet or two and a well-aimed shoulder to open it. More than likely it had been securely with a spring mechanism that was built into the frame. Nothing was getting through that._

_She glanced around the lab. Professor MacLeod was still flapping wildly at the spreading fire. The desk and paper had obviously been as dry as tinder. Smoke was beginning to hang in the air._

_At the end of the room, North could just make out the outline of a boarded up window. She sprinted through the lab, eyes beginning to water from the smoke. She prayed that the window had not been included in the lockdown._

_Reaching the window, she realized with dismay that the boarding was made of steel composite armoring with some kind of ceramic plating. However, feeling around the edges she saw that they had neglected to reinforce the frame itself, meaning that she may have found the tight security’s Achilles heel._

_Taking a couple of steps back, she raised her gun and fired into the lower left hand corner of the frame. She followed this up by a well-aimed kick with the sole of her heavy black tactical boots. She felt the frame give a little. She kicked again, harder this time, and was rewarded by the steel flexing and twisting. One more kick and she managed to get her hand under the rim of the steel sheet across the window. The edges were sharp and she could feel the steel tearing into her hand as she pulled upwards with all her might. Holstering her weapon, she put both hands on the steel, which was now slippery with blood, and pulled. It bent and came away from the window another foot or so._

_Putting her hand through the gap, North could feel the glass off the window frame. Using the butt of her gun, she smashed it, clearing it out from the edges of the frame as best she could._

_Smoke was beginning to fill the room. She could hear Professor MacLeod behind her at the desk still, now with a fire extinguisher. With the window smashed, she could also hear the alarms from the exterior compound._

_“Polaris, report.” Coulson voice was louder this time. He must be able to hear the sirens too._

_“Exiting building to south,” North panted, as she reached up to the window frame and hauled herself upwards. The commotion behind her increased and she heard shouts in Arabic. The hostiles were now in the lab. She could hear gunshots and the sound of boots on the lab floor._

_Putting her arms through first, North managed to wriggle through the gap, but could get no purchase with her legs. Her hands scrambled around outside for something to grip, so that she could pull herself through._

_Without warning hands grabbed her right ankle. She kicked out with her left foot, connecting with soft tissue and feeling the reassuring give of cartilage that suggested a broken nose. The hands let go of her ankle but the connection had provided her with the leverage that she needed and she was able to propel herself forward, out of the building._

_She landed heavily, her hands doing little to cushion her fall._

_“Hawkeye, confirm visual,” North gasped, pulling herself up onto one knee._

_“I’ve got you! Hostiles to your right! Three, at least! Fuck, Vision! Let me engage!” Hawkeye barked into the comms._

_Silence._

_North turned her head to her right, drawing her gun and pulling herself up onto her feet. She had a brief second to make out the shadowy figures in the dim light of the compound before they were upon her._

_Quickly, she ducked back down onto one knee and as the first guard reached for her, his gun outstretched, he stumbled over her back. She straightened up, the movement pushing him upwards and then to the ground. She spun around and planted her boot into his kidneys, knocking him onto his back._

_Raising her gun, she managed to get a round off before she was grabbed from behind, her arms pinned to her sides, lifting her clear off her feet. Her assailant’s hands locked together in front of her. She thrust her elbow back into the man’s solar plexus and his grip loosened slightly. She repeated the movement and her attacker grunted in pain and his hands parted. She dropped to the ground._

_Seeing her chance, North twisted around within his grasp until they were face to face. She reared her shoulders back, and then drove her head forward, her forehead making hard contact with his left eye socket. His hands dropped to his sides entirely and she was able to bring her gun up under his arms and shoot the third guard that was one pace behind him, hitting him square in the chest._

_Still in an uncomfortable’ ‘pas de deux’ with the second hostile, she brought her knee up and into his crotch, fircing him to step back and doubling him over. She was able to step quickly out of his reach. The butt of her gun connected with the base of his skull and he sprawled onto the ground unconscious._

_North could feel warm blood drip down across her eyes and she quickly brushed it away with a sleeve. Her hands were sticky with blood and the cuts on her palms hurt like hell._

_“Move, move!” she heard Barton shout, spinning her out of her reverie. “To the south!”_

_North started to run. She could hear shots being fire behind her. She zigzagged, making herself a moving target._

_Rounding the corner of the outbuilding, she could just make out the hole in the perimeter fence. She knew that Hawkeye was at her ten, could imagine him at the rocky outcrop, crouched, his M24 sniper rifle sights watching her every move._

_Suddenly a searing pain shot through North’s shoulder and she heard the shot at the same time. The impact of the shot almost knocked her off her feet. The guard was crouched in front of her, partially obscured by a series of water butts. Gasping in pain, she dropped to her knees, her left hand shooting to her injured shoulder. Still holding her M &P in her right hand, she tried to raise it, to take aim. Blood from the cut on her forehead blinded her and she blinked frantically, trying to clear her vision._

_A foot shot out, whipping her wrist back, disarming her. North’s pistol flew from her grasp._

_Looking up, she could see a hostile in full Syrian militia fatigues standing over her, his Browning aimed between her eyes, his finger taut on the trigger._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel isn't mine.

Leaning against the doorframe, Steve Rogers watched Tony Stark in R&D Suite 4. Stark’s sleeves were rolled up as his hands moved deftly between holographic images, expanding and contracting 3D icons and blueprints in the blink of an eye. His brow was furrowed, deep in concentration. Rock music blared out from the internal comm system and robotic lab assistants dotted the room, each absorbed in their own tasks of shaking, mixing and stirring compounds in flasks. It never ceased to amaze Steve that this was how Stark liked to work. Indeed, this was how he did his best work. Stark maintained better electronic relationships than biological ones and watching him interact with technology was captivating, like watching a flawless dance routine.

Without looking up, Stark addressed Steve “If you’re just going to stand there and watch, Spangles, then you may as well borrow one of Pepper’s dresses and provide a bit of eye candy.”  

“Can I help at all?” Steve approached Stark, but was baffled by the array of holograms, charts and symbols floating around in the ether.

“No, probably not.” It was not in Stark’s nature to make people feel good about themselves, to offer a salve where none existed. “JARVIS is worried about me blowing up the lab again, isn’t he? To be fair, the previous two explosions have been achieved by Dr Banner. I like to think that I’m a little more careful.”

At this point, one of the robotic lab assistants fumbled and dropped a large distillation flask. Fluid splashed across the floor. Stark paused for a beat, waiting for any comeback. There was none.

“Where _is_ Pepper?” Steve began to tidy Stark’s workspace, shuffling papers and stacking empty coffee mugs.

“Washington. Schmoozing. And don’t do that!” Stark glared at Steve, raising an eyebrow. “She’ll be back tomorrow, I think. Or maybe that was yesterday. I’m not really sure.”

Steve could understand his confused vagueness. The whole team had been running near on empty for a week or more now. He had no idea what day it was himself. He perched on the edge of the desk.

Looking around almost furtively, Steve lowered his voice slightly “Tell me, Stark, does none of this seem strange to you? The original two man mission, why Agent Coulson wouldn’t give Clint the go-ahead to fire on the enemy, Fury’s insistence that he be the first to know when Alex wakes up? Something just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“A man who usually dresses in a red, white and blue skintight spangly costume is asking me, a man who encases himself in a veritably aerodynamic metal outfit with jet propulsion in the feet, whether something seems strange or not?” Stark delivered this with a healthy does of snark. “I’m not sure that we’re the most qualified people to call it on that one.”

Steve shook his head. “I figured you wouldn’t see it.”

“Hey, hold on a minute there, Soldier,” Stark sounded annoyed. “Oh, I see it alright. Which is why I currently have a scan running on all of Fury’s incoming and outgoing comm system messages. If he so much as orders a roast pork chow mein or calls his mother, I’ll know about it.”

Steve tilted his head slightly. “And you think that you’ll find out what?”

“I have no idea, none at all” admitted Stark. “But being in the dark doesn’t sit right with me. It makes me twitchy. Now fuck off and do something useful or go get into that dress and look pretty for me!”

\-----oo00oo------

It was dark in the sleeping quarters, despite being the middle of the day. SHIELD Agent Natasha Romanov had drawn the blinds and lay on her bed, her arms folded across her chest. Her bright red hair spread across the white pillow. _Blood and bandages_ , that was what her mother had always said. She had her eyes closed but she wasn’t asleep.

Natasha was yet to visit the hospital, despite it being just five minutes away. She has not been to see Alex North since she had been brought in three days ago. She couldn’t. She didn’t do emotion. She didn’t do attachment.

However, she was unable to go running, a pursuit that she enjoyed above most others. The companionship that Alex had provided on a run was missing. Natasha felt the loss of her friend keenly.

Instead Natasha had spent most of her days at the shooting range at The Hub. A Glock in each hand she had blasted target after target until she was on the brink of exhaustion. And then she’d load up another target and begin all over again for hours on end. Sometimes Coulson would stand beside her, watching, but he never spoke.

Natasha lay on the bed, unmoving. A tear silently crept over her cheek and onto the pillow. Fuck these feelings.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel's still not mine, but it's fun to play.

_Kneeling on the cold, dusty ground, a feeling of peace spread over North. This was the hand that fate had dealt her and she’d accept it._

_“Hawkeye… Barton, go. Get to the evac site. Now.” Her voice was low and calm._

_She looked up and met the eyes of the guard above her. She refocused on the barrel of the gun, three feet from her face. It was just out of reach, even if she’d been in a fit state for a close combat fight._

_She closed her eyes and waited._

_The shot came quickly._

_The guard crumpled to the ground in front of her, picked off in perfect accuracy by Hawkeye’s long-range sniper rifle. Blood blossomed across his chest, his eyes unseeing and glassy._

_“Fuck that, Polaris! Get your ass up and get moving!” Barton’s voice over the comm-link._

_“Hawkeye, did you discharge your weapon?” Coulson’s voice crackled in North’s ear as she struggled to her feet._

_“My finger slipped,” Barton sassed. She heard Coulson draw a sharp breath and let it out._

_North was back up and moving, aware that more guards were not far behind her. She clutched at her shoulder, wincing sharply at the pain. She had no time to look for her gun. Fuck, she’d liked that M &P – the grip was finally worn in all the right places. She pulled the Glock from the shoulder holster, but something felt wrong with the balance._

_“Hawkeye, a status report?” North panted as she continued to move toward the perimeter fencing._

_“There are four guards securing the outbuilding that you just so helpfully torched, half blinding me in the night vision scope. And you have four figures on your tail, directly at your four, and moving fast. I can’t pick them off without risking hitting you.”_

_In the distance, North could hear the faint throb of helicopter blades. No locals would fly at night. It had to be the evac team._

_“Hawkeye, stick to the plan. I’ll meet you at the evac site.” North swiped at her face, smearing blood across her cheek. “Vision, please confirm. Make him go!”_

_“She’s right, Hawkeye. Start moving. This chopper’s a one time deal.” Coulson’s voice remained collected._

_There was a long hesitation._

_“OK.” North could hear Barton start to dismantle his rifle. “Keep moving, Polaris.”_

_"It wasn't my intention to stop for a picnic, Hawkeye!" The sarcasm in North's voice was apparent._

_North realized that starting up the bank towards the hole in the perimeter fence would make her a sitting target, especially at her reduced pace, her injured shoulder slowing her down considerably. She ducked behind a wooden post, dropped down and spun around, expecting to find the guards right on her tail. She would probably be able to buy herself some time by taking out a couple of them, if necessary._

_She brought the Glock up, both hands on the grip, again gasping at the pain in her shoulder. She had very little light with which to see by but she could feel that the Glock had been damaged. It had probably been clipped by the same round that had hit her shoulder, given the gun’s position in the shoulder holster at the time. The magazine was loose and the trigger mechanism was twisted. It was next to useless!_

_Glancing up, she could see that her pursuers had slowed to a walk, but were still closing the gap, given her current stationary position._

_“Agent North?” It was Professor MacLeod. “Please, stop. I had to say those things. I couldn’t come with you. They have my family.” He sounded pleading, desperate. North could see that a guard had him held by an elbow, a gun wedged into his side._

_“If you run now, they will kill me and kill my family also. I have two children, a wife. Do you want their blood to be on your conscience? How will you be able to live with yourself? After all, you know what it’s like to lose a family, don’t you?”_

_MacLeod’s words struck a cord and North’s mouth twisted to a grimace. How could he have known that? It was classified. Not even Coulson knew._

_“Polaris, it’s a trick. Get yourself up and out now.” She could hear an edge on panic in Coulson’s voice, not a familiar sound and certainly not a welcome one._

_North felt backed into a corner. She knew that she had no operational weapon, other than the small knife, tucked into her boot, which would only come into play in close-quarters engagement. She also felt a responsibility for MacLeod’s life._

_“Wait, Vision.”_

_“I’m coming back!” Hawkeye was out of breath. He must be almost at the evac site by now._

_“No!” This from both North and Coulson. “Negative, Hawkeye, keep moving. That’s a direct order!” Coulson added._

_The three guards and Professor MacLeod stood in a small patch of light, their outlines brightened by the moon. North watched as MacLeod was pushed to his knees, a soldier bringing his Browning up to the back of the professor’s head._

_The sound of chopper blades was much more distinct now. North checked her watch. Three minutes to get to the evacuation site._

_“Oh God, oh God!” Professor MacLeod moaned. “Please don’t let them kill me.”_

_Shit, shit, shit! How had it come to this? She swallowed hard. How could she possibly choose between her own life and that of a civilian?_

_North straightened up and stepped out from behind the post. Dropping the Glock, she kicked it away from her, showing her hands were empty._

_“Put hands on head.” The guard spoke broken English with a strong Arabic inflection. North assented, feeling the blood from her shoulder as it seeped through her tactical vest._

_The two guards on either side of Professor MacLeod broke away from the group and approached her. They were measured in their movements as they approached her. Apparently they had already seen the havoc that she could wreak._

_Arriving at either side of her, they each grasped one of North’s arms, twisting her wrists up violently behind her back. Her weight was forced slightly forward and she dropped to her knees. Instinct meant that she tensed, that she readied herself for a fight._

_She never took her eyes from Professor MacLeod, who was now clambering to his feet. He and the guard who had held the gun on him moved towards her, until the Professor stood directly in front of her. The guards holding her arms tightened their grip._

_“That was my work, you bitch! That is all the family that I need!’ He spat at her. He turned away faintly before whirling back and viciously backhanding her across the face. North shook her head, her ears ringing. Professor MacLeod turned and began to walk back to his lab._

_A soldier stood in his wake. “Fuckin’ SHIELD scum,” he uttered before drawing his fist back and throwing a punch as hard as he could. North saw it coming but could do nothing to avoid it. She saw stars and then everything went dark._

\-----oo00oo------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, another tricky chapter. And life keeps getting in the way of my writing - how rude!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing that you recognise as being part of Marvel belongs to me.

\-----oo00oo------

“You wanted to see me, Sir.” Benny Pollack looked nervous. He stood in front of Direction Fury’s desk, twisting his fingers together and shifting from one foot to the other, whilst the older man resolutely ignored his presence.

Benny began to sweat. He couldn’t imagine what he must have done wrong. He’d hardly stepped out of the R&D Think Tank for months, so what could possibly be his fault?

Maybe it was something to do with Claire, he thought. Claire Wise was his girlfriend. She had a ruthless streak, which suited SHIELD as long as it was used _for_ them and not _against_ them. He started to imagine all of the terrible things that she may have done. She hoped to God that she hadn’t shot another agent.

Director Fury glanced up from his desk and looked at Benny as if he’d only just noticed him, which he probably just had.

“Ah, Pollack. Sit down.”

Benny looked around. There were no chairs.

“Er, no, thank you, Sir. I’m fine standing.” Benny smiled awkwardly. “Can I just say how much I’m loving working here and how I really appreciate all the chances that you’ve given me and how I feel so welcome and did I say how much I love working here?” Benny’s words spilled out over the top of each other, his nerves betraying him.

Fury ignored him. “I have a job for you, Pollack. It’s about the work that Banner and Stark are doing, trying to reproduce Professor MacLeod’s formula.”

Benny relaxed. “Ah, I spoke to Dr Banner about this earlier today. He and Mr Stark are making great strides and… “ 

Fury continued. “I need to you ensure that Dr Banner and Mr Stark do not replicate Professor MacLeod’s formula.”

Benny tensed, confused. “Are you aware, Sir, that their reproduction of the formula will negate the effects of Professor’s MacLeod’s own weapon? If they can come up with the same energy mass as MacLeod’s then his weapon is useless.”

“Yes, I am aware of that, but thank you for feeling the need to point it out again.” Fury’s voice was like ice.

“Erm, uh, but how can I do that, Sir?”

Fury’s hands slammed down on his desk, making Benny jump. “I don’t fucking care, Pollack. Just make sure that they do not complete their work.” 

“You want me sabotage their work, Sir?” Benny was hesitant.

“Damn right. And make sure that you do the job properly.” Fury stared at Benny, his one good eye boring into Benny’s own. “I expect it done yesterday.”

Benny looked miserable.

“Yes, sir.”

\-----oo00oo------

_North lay still. She kept her eyes closed and listened. When she had ascertained that she was alone, she slowly opened her bloodshot eyes and then closed them again. Fuck, she had a headache from hell!_

_Turning her head slightly from her position on the floor she opened her eyes again and took in her environment._

_It was a relatively large room, lit by three fluorescent tube lights that had been propped up against the wooden walls, rather than being sited in the corrugated iron ceiling. The floor was cold, hard and dusty. There was one door and no windows. North didn’t feel like Syrian hospitality was up to much._

_North continued with her assessment. She had been relieved of the comm link in her right ear. She hadn't really believed that they'd make the mistake of leaving it in situ. Without it she felt naked and very alone. She was used to the mission banter from Hawkeye and the silence was deafening. She felt in her boot, disappointed but not surprised to find the Gerber knife was also missing. These were soldiers that she was dealing with. They would have known where to look for weapons. They had also removed her tactical jacket and she shivered slightly at the touch of the cold foor._

_Tentatively she moved her arms and legs. Her shoulder throbbed, but she was unimpaired apart from a metal cuff attached to her right wrist that, in turn, was attached to a solid eyebolt sunk into the concrete flooring. Ok, well, that shouldn't be an issue, she thought grimly._

_She reached down to her heavy tactical boots and pulled at the knot on the right foot. Feeling gently along the length of the lace, she located a small sharp point and pushed gently. A two-inch piece of wire threaded its way out between the weave of the lace. North smiled to herself. Taking the piece of wire between the fingers of her left hand, she deftly twisted the end to form a small loop. Inserting it into the lock mechanism of the cuff that was attached to her right wrist, North twisted the wire to a 90 degree angle. She heard a faint click and the bracelet opened._

_Quickly replacing the wire, North retied her laces and sat, rubbing her wrist. She gingerly touched her face, checking for any breaks, relieved when she could find none. Her skin felt taut where the blood from the cut on her forehead had congealed and, as she rubbed her hands across her face, flakes of dried blood fell to the floor._

_Touching her shoulder, North could feel that she wasn't going to be quite so lucky with this injury. The bullet had missed the bone and major tendons, probably as a result of the velocity being reduced by hitting her shoulder holster in entry. However, she could feel no exit wound which meant that the bullet was still in there., potentially along with fragments from the Glock's broken trigger mechanism. This increased the chance of infection considerably so she needed to put sterilizing the wound to the top of her priority list. Easier said than done, given her current predicament._

_Rolling slowly onto all fours, North pushed herself back up onto her haunches and steadied herself as a wave of dizziness passed through her. Raising her head, she slowly stood up, her hands shaking ever so faintly._

_She crossed quietly to the door and placed her ear against the wood, listening intently. She could hear voices, at least two... no, three, having a heated conversation in Arabic. She wished that Coulson were here to help translate. He'd been teaching her basic Arabic but she could only pick out a few words. She definitely heard_ خطر, _which she thought_ _meant "compromised," which would make sense. But she could also identify_ نقل - _"transfer" - which was slightly more worrying. If they moved MacLeod and his operation from this location then SHIELD would have to unearth him again, leading to delays in their opportunity to stop him. **And find me** , she thought with a small shake of the head, refusing to be maudlin. She had gone into this with her eyes open. She knew the risks and she had no regrets. But she also knew that Clint Barton would do everything in his power – and, indeed, outside of his power - to rescue her._

_North could hear a vague, deep hum in the air. She dropped to her knees and put her ear to the ground. She could feel a distinct vibration, could see the faint tremble of the dirt. Military vehicles on the move, she thought._

_A noise right outside the door made North move silently to her feet. She stood in the blindspot, knowing that she would be hidden behind the door as it opened inwards. She only had the element of surprise on her side and was determined to make it count._

_\-----oo00oo------_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone still with me?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel is not mine but I get to play in the Avengers' playground and it's fun.
> 
> Please heed the tags and do not read if any of them are a trigger for you.

\-----oo00oo------

Dr Bruce Banner sat in the chair next to Alex North’s bed. He couldn’t help but feel he was a danger in a hospital environment, but he had spent so much of his time getting his anger under control and he had made great strides since the Chitauri attack on New York. Working cheek by jowl with Tony Stark would appear to have the effect of either killing you or curing you, and whilst Bruce was not cured, he was also a long way from being defeated. For all the baiting and sniping, Tony had shown a great deal of empathy and sensitivity, for which Bruce was grateful. 

Bruce was not a medically trained doctor but he had reluctantly assumed that field role with the Avengers Initiative. It made him feel that he was fulfilling a proactive role rather than just being the ever-present threat of The Other Guy. And he had to admit that it was a fairly useful feature to effectively be immune to injury. However, he was always very wary of the appearance of The Other Guy and having him undo any good work he had done with a patient.

By trade he was a nuclear physicist – Alex never passed up an opportunity to say, with a grin, “Well, yes, actually he **is** a rocket scientist!” during an argument. It was her ultimate trump card in supporting him and she loved the intellectual sparring between himself and Stark. She liked to sit crossed-legged on a bench in R &D and watch the two of them work. Her brain was like a sponge, he could see that she was taking so much of the information in. When she didn’t have those damn white earbuds in!

Bruce’s humanitarian work in India, where he had been when SHIELD recruited him, had stood him in good stead and he was able to treat many wounds and illnesses, ranging from snakebites and malaria to respiratory illness and malnourishment.

But he had struggled to hold on to Alex North when Clint had carried her into the chopper and he shuddered at the memory. And to think that Fury had requested that he wait on the Helicarrier! If he hadn't been there to administer emergency aid then Alex would almost certainly be dead now. Fury had wanted Clint to go in alone but that idea had been vetoed immediately by everyone on the team. They were all aware of how badly the original plan of a having Alex go in alone had gone in the first place and they didn’t want to take any chances now that they had finally located her. All the ranting and raving by Director Fury hadn't stopped the Avengers going in, in the most part, en masse. Even Agent Coulson, Phil, had backed them in the end, against Fury’s wishes, with a short, sharp “Go get the girl.” 

Picking up the charts from the end of the bed, Bruce began to idly flick through the paperwork that had been attached to the clipboard. His eyes scanned down the lists of medications that Alex was being treated with and the procedures that she had undergone in the three days since she had been found. He scanned back to the emergency administrations that he had carried out in the chopper on the way to the Helicarrier which had been moored off the coast of Cyprus, a fifteen minute flight away. It had been such a blur to him that he was surprised that he managed to dispense so much care in such a short length of time.

Maybe he was a people person after all. As long as those people were either unconscious or not breathing, or, as was in this case, both.

\-----oo00oo------

_North stood still behind the door. She could hear bolts being drawn back, one at the top and one at the bottom. She tensed as the door opened a few inches, then a few more._

_There was shuffling from the door, an Arabic voice, calling. Then a man in full fatigues wearing a keffiyah stepped into the room. North waited, holding her breath. She knew that he would not be alone and didn’t want to present her back to anyone else entering the room behind him._

_He saw the empty handcuffs and gave a short, harsh cry. There was the sound of running in the corridor and suddenly two more men crowded into the room. North gave a sigh, rolled her eyes briefly. Nothing was ever fucking easy, was it?_

_She started with a sharp kidney punch to the man at the rear, followed swiftly with a kick to the back of his knees, dropping him to the concrete. As he gasped for breath, she punched him hard in the throat, dancing around to the opposite side, mindful of avoiding the onslaught that would surely follow from the other two soldiers in the room. She saw the man’s eyes flicker as he tried to retain consciousness and punched him again, this time across the cheekbone. His eyes closed and he slumped forward._

_The two soldiers ahead of him were now aware of the danger from behind and spun around to face North, both moving forwards towards her. She took a couple of steps backwards and moved so that the prostrate form of their colleague stood between them. She could sense the open door behind her and longed to back out and run, but that plan was deeply flawed and she knew that she wouldn’t get far with at least two hostiles right on her tail._

_The soldier on the right began to fumble for the gun that North could see in his waistband and she moved quick to head him off. Using the unconscious man on the floor to gain a few more inches in height, she stood on the downed man’s back and thrust the heel of her hand into the man’s face. He moved his head and it didn’t catch him square and North whipped round, bending her knees at just the right time to avoid the following roundhouse punch that was aimed in her direction._

_The man had now managed to draw his Browning and was struggling to disengage the safety whilst also keeping an eye on her. As he glanced down at the gun, North launched at him, her head aimed for his solar plexus. She felt the breath expel from him as she made contact and he stumbled backwards, his hands grabbing at her. They fell in an undignified heap, the Browning skittling away from both of them. Lying across the man, she drove her fist into his face, once, twice, before twisting away._

_Meanwhile the third man moved to help his friend and strode over to where North lay on the floor. He raised his boot over her face and brought it down hard, only narrowly missing her as she rolled to her right. He raised his foot again and North swept her legs across in the in the hope of tripping him but only succeeding in wrong-footing him, making him stumble and drop to one knee. He reached down and grabbed her collar, and, standing up, he lifted her up from the floor and flung her towards the wall._

_North hit the concrete with a sickening crunch, the breath knocked out of her. Lying against the wall, her legs splayed, she imperceptivity shook her head, trying to clear her vision. She looked up, only to see the soldier approaching her. He reached down once more and grabbed the lapels on her combat vest, lifting her up again until her feet were barely touching the floor. Then he drew her towards him before violently slamming her back against the concrete wall. She could see the other two soldiers stumbling to their feet, as the man holding her pulled her forward again until her face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath, then he thrust her backwards so hard that she was sure that she could hear her head crack on the wall behind her._

_He released her and North fell to her hands and knees on the floor against the wall. He looked over his shoulder and addressed his two colleagues in Arabic. One stepped forward and brutally kicked North in the ribs. She grunted and curled in upon herself. Another kick followed and then another and another. North bit her lip, unable to catch her breath, her stomach and ribs roaring in agony. The men laughed._

_The man that she had felled when he had first entered the room stepped forward and grabbed her hair, yanking her head viciously upwards until he was looking into her eyes. In stilted English he addressed her: “From here, it gets worse, SHIELD scum.” He grinned, showing rotten teeth, and released her hair. She dropped back to the floor, breathing hard. He bent down besides her and placed a hand on her injured shoulder, squeezing and twisting at the wound until North could feel her vision greying. He laughed again and drawing a bloodied fist back he hit her across the face, her head bouncing off the wall behind her._

_Unconsciousness finally welcomed the drained Agent North._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Marvel. Yet.

 

_North was jolted into unwilling consciousness. Her hands were tied behind her back and her vision was restricted, not just by a blindfold but by a hood that was pulled down over her head. She could feel that her arms had also been secured at the elbow, drawing them back tightly across her back and putting additional unwanted strain in her injured shoulder._

_Judging by the boots that were placed in the small of her back across her tied hands, she was lying on the floor of a military vehicle that was on the move. They were moving over rough terrain, every bump accentuating the pain in her head and her shoulder._

_She could hear the murmur of voices and the sound of other vehicles, travelling in tandem at near identical pace. They were moving their operation in its entirety, as she had feared they would do. It made sense. Their base has been exposed. If they wanted to hold onto Professor MacLeod and maintain the upper hand they would need to make sure that he could not be found again, certainly until he had completed the formula. North hoped that her laboratory bonfire had set him back a few weeks at least, giving SHIELD another shot at finding him._

_A more pressing matter right now was the question of why she was still alive. Aside from the fact that she was SHIELD, they couldn’t know that she had any knowledge about the work they had been doing with MacLeod before he defected. That being said, they had to know that SHIELD was still working towards the same end. It didn’t take a genius. They would want to know who, where and how close to perfecting the formula they were. And here, on the floor of a military truck, they had a (almost) fully functioning SHIELD agent who they no doubt felt they could induce into sharing some information. That was not a thought that filled her full of hope and joy._

_North mentally kicked herself for making such a screw up of the mission, for putting herself in this position. She tried to get her aching head to focus and establish where the turning point had been. As much as she blamed herself, how could SHIELD intelligence not have realized that Professor MacLeod was now working for the Libyans? Their line of communications had become really disjointed somehow. Or someone had deliberately fed them the wrong information. But for what purpose?_

_The truck went over a particularly bone-jarring series of potholes and North shifted slightly, trying to alleviate the pressure on her shoulder and the pain in her ribs. There was speech, in Arabic, and then the foot that was in the small of her back was raised and brought down hard, grinding against her joined wrists. North winced, closing her eyes against the pain. There was no point in being belligerent, in fighting back right now, she was in no position to mount any real kind of resistance. She lay still and concentrated in counting time and potential miles._

\-----oo00oo------

The tightening of the bowstring as he pulled it taut to his chin gave him a level of peace that he hadn’t felt in the last few weeks. The riser creaked ever so faintly through the pressure but the sound was so slight if his ear hadn’t been so close he would not have heard it. He readjusted his hand around the grip and flexed his fingers. His hand shook, a movement that was almost undetectable, but he knew it was there.

Clint Barton released the tension on the bowstring gently and slowly and took a deep breath. It was a hot day in New York and from his vantage point on scaffolding atop Stark Tower, he could see the heat rise up from the city streets. He adjusted his sunglasses and looked across the city to the Hudson. Pleasure cruisers and excursion boats busied to and fro, shipping tourists from here to there, harbormaster crafts and ferries moved with a bit less purpose.  He could hear the occasional “whoop whoop” of an emergency vehicle, the hum of a helicopter, the horn of a yellow cab. Just another day in New York city.

This was the first time that Barton had left the hospital in three days but he didn’t feel sociable, which was nothing new to the rest of the team. Natasha called it his “brooding silence,” but the reality was that he had always felt that if he had nothing of any real value to say then it was just as well to keep quiet.

Right now, Barton had a lot of thinking to do and he did that best at height and on his own. Coulson had opened up to him more than he could ever have hoped but now he didn’t know how to process the information. He just didn’t know where to start.

It was plain as day that Phil Coulson was in love with Alex North. Barton was surprised that he hadn’t recognized it earlier than this. But then there had been no catalyst before this point. During the three weeks that Alex had been missing, Barton had assumed that it was guilt that had been eating at Couson. Fuck knows, he’d felt the same himself! No one likes to lose a team member during an operation, especially one as valuable as Alex North.

But the guilt and worry about Alex’s fate had masked Coulson’s real emotions.

Just as it had masked his own. And just as he could see Coulson’s feelings for Alex clearly, he could also now recognize his own. Barton had thought that he had been the one receiving support from Coulson when in reality they’d been clinging onto each other.

But either way, it made not one fucking bit of difference if Alex didn’t wake up.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvel ne m'appartient pas. Boo :(
> 
> Please heed the warning tags, peeps.

_The truck came to an abrupt halt. Voices called out in Arabic outside and the soldiers within the truck answered. Apparently they had arrived at wherever they had been travelling to._

_The feet on North’s back pressed down hard as the man stood up. She gasped at the sudden increase in weight and pressure and was dismayed that the soldier must have heard it because he laughed slightly before stepping off of her and moving towards the rear of the vehicle. Handles were turned and doors were opened and rough hands grabbed North’s ankles, sliding her backwards and propelling her out of the truck and onto the ground below. With her hands behind her back she had no way of catching her fall and although she tried to twist slightly as she fell, she hit the ground hard. She stifled a groan as the movement jarred her shoulder. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing her discomfort. She laid still._

_The toe of a boot nudged her hard in the stomach. “Get up, bitch.”_

_North rolled to her knees and paused for a few seconds, her head down, trying to get her bearings and catch her balance. She could feel hard and rough terrain under her knees, so she was probably still in the desert and not in a city. She tried to listen but had no time._

_Hands caught her upper arms and dragged her upright until she was standing unsteadily on her feet. The continued presence of the hood left her disorientated and she staggered slightly. The fingers pinched cruelly into her biceps but she was willing to bet that the bruises left behind would shortly be the least of her worries and, quite probably, the least of her pain._

_She was propelled forward by a hand in her back and just managed to save herself from stumbling and falling. She walked at a steady pace and was guided by the presence of the men either side of her. They kept up a constant dialogue with one another and she tried desperately to understand what they were saying. One word that was repeated several times was_ مرح. _She tried to remember her lessons with Phil, but whilst he was being stern and putting her through her lingual paces, she’d always been playing the fool, teasing him for his seriousness. She regretted it now. God, he must think that she was a complete and utter waste of time._

_North owed a lot to Coulson and she knew it. And she would forever be in debt to him, not in the whole “Natasha-cold-assassin-red-in-my-ledger” kind of way, but in a genuinely affectionate way. He’d offered her his hand when she thought that she’d had nowhere else to turn. Riding the subway every day had been wearing thin. Phil seemed to have a skill at picking up waifs and strays and seeing their potential. He’d certainly seen something in her that she hadn’t seen herself. And Clint too. He’d seen it in Clint. North smiled briefly, wondered if she’d ever see them again._

_As she was herded forward, she felt the toe of her boot stub on something: a doorframe or threshold of some sort. Then the ground changed and became smoother. So definitely inside a building of some sort. The air turned colder, but it wasn’t as a result of air-conditioning. Then she realized that she was walking downwards at a slight angle, away from the heat of the desert._

_Hands pushed and pulled her left and right until North was thoroughly disorientated. Then finally, she heard bolts being drawn back and a key in a lock. Ah, she thought with an air of the Stark sarcasm, this must be my hotel room!_

_As she entered the room, she was spun around and pushed down firmly into a chair. She heard a metallic ‘ching’ and the ropes binding her hand at the elbows were cut. Her arms sprung apart, red-hot pain shooting down towards her hands. Her shoulders eased forwards and she exhaled slightly at the pulling on the gunshot wound. It had gone comfortably numb, but now the renewed blood flow was reminding her what being shot felt like._

_North’s tied hands were dragged upwards, over the back of the chair and then down. She could hear the slight vibrations of zip ties as they encircled her wrists and then felt them pulled tight, attaching her hands to the back of the chair._

_There was more laughter as the hood was pulled roughly from her head. North blinked from the sudden bright light and squinted to ease the transition from dark to light._

_She was in a room carved out of rock so it was a fair premise to suggest that they had moved to somewhere near the mountains. The rock was going to render SHIELD thermal image seeking reconnaissance equipment useless. There were four soldiers in the room, including two she had engaged at the compound. She wasn’t particularly pleased to see them. One now bent down in front of her and pulled zip ties around her ankles, securing the to the chair legs. He looked up at her and then at his colleagues and gave a short laugh. It was at that point that North remembered what مرح meant._

_“Fun.”_

_And her blood ran cold._

_The man straightened up and, resting his hands on the arms of the chair, he leaned close to her face._

_“Start with simple,” he spat at her. “Your name and role within SHIELD. Tell me now.”_

_“What, no offer of a cup of tea first? Didn’t mother teach you any manners?” North sounded braver than she felt._

_The man growled in anger, reeled back and kicked the seat of the chair that was exposed between her legs hard. The chair spun backwards onto the floor, taking North with it. Her upper arms were crushed between the chair and the hard floor. The pain in her shoulder was excruciating but she refused to cry out. She could feel blood in her mouth where she had bitten her tongue._

_“We leave you to wait for a while,” the man said and smiled. He signaled to his colleagues and they left, locking the door securely behind them._

_North, lying prone on the upturned chair, willed herself not to cry._

\-----oo00oo------

Benny Pollack’s palms were sweating. He didn’t really feel that he was cut out for this undercover espionage kind of stuff. Waiting to enter Stark Tower, he shifted from foot to foot, already feeling guilty. He was sure that Dr Banner and Mr Stark would see through him the moment that he stepped into R&D. And then there was that AI, Jarvis. He saw and heard everything that went on in this whole damn building. Benny had not a clue how he was going to manage this and cursed Fury for tasking him with this job.

Claire had asked him what Fury had wanted when he’d returned to the lab after his meeting with Fury and he’d had to lie really inefficiently to her, tell her it was about a potential move up to level 5. She had raised an eyebrow in a knowing way. He hadn’t fooled her for a minute, he knew that. But what else could he do? It wasn’t like he could say “Well, Claire, Director Fury has asked me to go behind Stark and Banner’s backs, sabotage their work and potentially hand a world-ending weapon to the enemy. Oh, yeah, and Banner has that whole green angry guy thing going on when he gets mad. But don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

The door release buzzed and he entered the lobby, the soothing voice of Jarvis welcoming him.

“Good afternoon, Agent Pollack. Mr Stark is in R&D suite 4. He is expecting you and has asked you to go straight up please.”

“Erm, right, yes, OK. Thanks.” Benny wasn’t quite sure where he should address the omnipresent AI and ended up speaking in the vague direction of the elevated ceiling. He scurried across to the elevator and before he even had a chance to press a button, the doors pinged open in readiness. Benny looked nervously behind him and then entered the elevator.

 -----oo00oo------


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo sorry for the 18 day hiatus :( Christmas is a super busy time. But the good news is that I have three chapters all half written so the updates should come a bit quicker now :)
> 
> Usual disclaimer: Marvel is not mine and I never said it was.

The door to R&D Suite 4 was open when Benny Pollack approached. He could hear the blare of AC/DC along the corridor and the accompaniment of hands being thumped on a desk in time to the beat. Tony Stark was obviously in a good mood. 

There were footsteps behind him and Benny turned briefly to see Bruce Banner striding down the corridor towards him. Shit! Benny had hoped to be able to catch one of the scientists without the other. It would have made his job slightly easier. Bruce caught him up and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Benny! How are they treating you over at The Hub? I see that you've bowed to the pressure of the uniform. Real SHIELD guy now, huh?"

Benny was dressed in the obligatory black slacks and tight microfiber SHIELD zip-neck top. He hated it, really hated it. It stifled his identity and tied him to the corporate body that he’d previously spent his life fighting against.

He smiled at Bruce wryly. “Yeah, yeah, just seemed easier, y’know. Go with the flow and all that.”

“You on your way to see Tony?” asked Bruce.

“Mmm.” Benny stayed non-committal. “Just thought I’d offer to see what I could do with the MacLeod formula work. You never know when a fresh pair of eyes might bring a breakthrough.”

Bruce smiled so genuinely that Benny practically blurted out every bad deed that he’d ever done in his entire life right there and then from the time that he’d cut his baby sister’s braid off to the parking ticket that he’d asked Claire to take for him to the hideous action that he was about to take. He felt so incredibly guilty. His conscience raged inside of him.

“You’re right, Benny, absolutely right,” said Bruce. They reached the door of R&D 4. “We’ll talk you through what we have so far and where we’re struggling to stabilize the formula.”

Tony Stark looked up when Bruce and Benny entered the room. He had his glasses perched on the end of his nose and was tapping the desk with a biro in time to the music. Bruce raised a hand in greeting and Benny avoided meeting Stark’s gaze.

“Turn off the music, please, Jarvis.” Tony spoke to the AI.

“Of course, Mr Stark.”

Silence descended on the lab and Stark stood.

“What news from the hospital, Banner?”

“Nothing new. Although I’m sure that Jarvis is keeping you up-to-date on everything so you already knew that.”

Stark tilted his head slightly and smiled in acknowledgment. He didn’t like to be the last to know.

“And Benny Pollack. Welcome. Jarvis told me that you left The Hub a little under an hour ago so I figured that there was only one place that you could be headed for. And Fury sent you.”

It was a statement, not a question. Benny blinked at him. How the fuck could Stark know about his discussion with Fury? Was nothing a secret from this man?

Bruce interrupted, assuming that Benny was a little overawed with Stark. “He’s here to help, to see if he can figure out what we can’t.”

“Is that right, Benny? Hmm?” Stark’s gaze fell on him once again and Benny shifted uncomfortably, a nervous half smile forming on his face. “Well, let’s get you up to speed then.”

Stark raised his hands dramatically and a 3D holographic screen spread to life in front of the three men.

“I assume that you know about the x-element energy that forms the basis of the Tesseract’s power and the reason for the gamma signature that is emitted.” Stark didn’t give Benny time to answer before he carried on. “If we can recreate the ionic energy mass that exists in the fourth dimension within the Tesseract then it will render MacLeod’s research worthless. Together the two would create a thermal fusion expansion vacuum. We’re so fucking close it’s driving me mad!”

Benny nodded. He could see exactly what the two men were trying to do. It was genius really, but then he hadn’t expected anything less from Banner and Stark. He listened as Stark continued, pointing out formulas and equations that they had been working on.

“We need to neutralize the wave patterns from the energy mass, mainly because if we blow up another R&D suite, Pepper is going to kill us both. But also, of course, to stabilize the formula and avoid Armageddon and all that.” Stark finished. His hands deftly moved across the holographic screen, moving symbols and numbers around.

Banner turned to Benny. “So, what do you think? Any bright ideas.”

Benny looked at the holographic screen again, looked at the symbols, the formulas and the equations. The scientist in him itched to get to work and solve the problem. He felt sure that between the three of them, they could solve the problem. He longed to ignore Fury’s instructions. But the SHIELD agent in him, the man who owed Fury so much, knew what he had to do.

“Hmm, yep, I see what you’re doing and I see where the formula is going wrong.” Banner and Stark exchanged a glance as Benny spoke. “Do you have somewhere that I can sit to work through some ideas?”

Banner steered him towards a near empty desk, shoveling papers and folders to one side to give him some space. Benny perched awkwardly on the chair.

“What do you need?” Banner asked.

_A fucking miracle_ , thought Benny. But aloud he said “Just some good old-fashioned paper, pencils and a glass of water, please.” And he took his glasses out of his top pocket and prepared to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to any Tesseract experts out there who can spot gaping holes in my hypothesis. I never said I was a scientist.


	17. Chapter 17

_It was two, maybe three hours before North heard the locks on the door being drawn back. She hadn’t slept but she had zoned out, taken herself off somewhere else. She’d thought of home, of her team, of her friends. She’d thought about Clint and about Phil, the two people that she was closest to in this world._

_Her hands were completely numb where the back of the chair rested over her forearms. She’d been through the entire cycle of pins and needles, followed by red-hot pain, followed by cold numbness. She’d had no energy to try to use her weight to turn or tip the chair. The pain in her arms and the hideous discomfort of the position aside, it had almost felt peaceful to lie down._

_North felt hand grasp her shoulders and drag her upright, the release on her number arms a simultaneous relief and an intense agony. She hissed at the sudden movement and rolled her eyes, her vision coming into sharp focus with the appearance of a face thrust close to hers. The insurgent was so close that she could see his stubble, smell his sweat and feel his hot breath._

_“Ah, you must be the turndown service,” North said, with a slight grimace. “I’m not too overwhelmed with the customer service so far.” She met his eyes and held his stare._

_The soldier continued to stare at her for a few more seconds before smiling and straightening up. He recognized the bravado in her voice and couldn’t help but be impressed. He spoke in Arabic to the men on either side of North, who both still had a hand on each of her shoulders. The three laughed._

_“Now, where did we leave off? Ah, yes, I remember,_ _I believe that I asked your name and role within SHIELD. Would you care to answer me now?”_

_North raised her eyebrows and made a show of thinking the matter through before answering._

_“No, I don’t think so. But thanks for asking.”_

_The hands gripping her shoulders tightened and North automatically tensed, expecting the next onslaught. She was surprised when it didn’t come and raised her eyebrows slightly._

_“That isn’t a problem. You see, we know your name. We’d just like you to fill in the gaps for us please, Agent North.”_

_Fuck Andrew MacLeod, thought North ruefully._

_“Well, since you know me, perhaps you’d be kind enough to introduce yourself.” North sounded braver than she felt. All those hours in R &D with Stark were obviously paying off. Her level of sass had potentially never been higher than in this moment._

_“I believe that I’m the one asking the questions here.” The solider leaned down again, his face inches from hers. “What is your role within SHIELD? And how much do they know of our operation?”_

_The insurgent reached a hand up to touch North’s face in a parody of tenderness. He ran a finger down her left cheek, which was still swollen and bloodied. She winced, almost imperceptibly._

_“I really don’t want to mess up this pretty face any further.” He smiled and gripped her chin in his fingers, his nails piercing the skin, forcing her to keep her head still, to meet his eyes._

_North smiled, then spat forcefully in his face._

_The soldier reeled backwards, dragging his sleeve across his face, clearing the spittle from his vision as it dripped over his eyes and down his cheek._

_“Shall I take that as your final word?” he asked North. She tilted her head slightly in assent._

_The man turned to his fellow soldiers and spoke rapidly in Arabic. They left the room, leaving the door ajar._

_”I’m sorry, Agent North, but things are about to get very unpleasant for you.” He reached into his waistband and pulled out a knife, **her** Gerber knife, the bastard. He approached her slowly, playing with the knife gently, turning the hilt around in the palm of his hand and gently pushing the blade into the tips of his fingers._

_He stood in front of her, his knees touching hers, seemingly contemplating his next move, then reached down swiftly and cut through the zip ties that were securing her legs to the chair legs. Moving behind her, out of her sight, she felt the zip ties around her wrists and arms release. Her arms slumped forward and she moaned ever so slightly at the pain that the movement caused. Hours of being tied in the same position had taken its toll and her arms hung uselessly by her sides, her chin on her chest._

_He stepped back into her eye line. “Last chance,” he said._

_“Nah, I’m good, if it’s all the same with you.” She lifted her head briefly to meet his eye._

_He smiled. “I’m glad that’s your answer.”_

_The two other men reentered the room. One carried a rolled up length of metal cable, a little under an inch thick. The other carried a pair of handcuffs. This can’t be good, thought North as she eyed the men carefully._

_Efficiently her arms were brought around onto her lap and the cuffs snapped into place. Holding the cuffs by the chain the joined them together, the man dragged North to her feet. She stumbled forward, her legs tired and numb, and dropped to one knee._

_Wrenched upright, she was dragged behind the chair to the far wall. An iron hook that stretched a foot or two above her head had been sited into the rock. North could hear the screech of chair legs across the floor as the chair was moved aside behind her._

_Slamming her face first against the rock, her hands were hauled above her head and lifted over the hook. Possibly a taller person would still have their feet on the ground, but North wasn’t afforded this luxury and her wrists took the entirety of her weight as she dangled against the rock, her left cheek against the stone. The strain on her wrists and shoulders was agony, but North took some comfort from the coolness against her swollen and tender cheek and eye socket._

_It wasn’t to last._

_The exhaled abruptly as she felt a body press up against her back, pinning her to the rock. The pressure on her damaged ribs made it difficult to breathe. She felt hot breath against her neck, against her ear, and hands on her waist._

_“Just let me know when you want to talk, huh.”_

_She felt cold metal against her right cheek, as the flat blade of the Gerber knife was pushed against her skin. Then, just as quickly it was removed and she felt the collar of her t-shirt being pulled backwards and an accompanying ripping sound as the Gerber knife slit the fabric open all the way down the length of the fabric. She shivered as the cool air hit her skin._

_She felt rough hands trail down her back, again stopping on her hips and she tensed, involuntarily. Then they were removed and she heard the three men speaking in low tones._

_The first lash with the cable caught her entirely unawares and made her suck in her breath at the brutal sting. It caught her across the middle of her back, just under her shoulder blades. The second lash came hot on the heels of the first and she winced at the pain._

_There was no sound in the room apart from the noise of the cable through the air and the slap as it hits North’s back. She bore the pain in admirably stoic silence. But by the tenth blow, she felt her resolve weaken._

_By the fifteenth stroke she could feel blood on her back, the cold air chilling the sticky substance and cooling the burning pain of her skin._

_At the twenty-second blow, she cried out. She hadn’t meant to, but the yelp had escaped from her lips without permission. North screwed her eyes up tight and pressed her lips into a tight line, resolution seeping from every pore._

_But her body was determined to betray her and after five more stokes, she cried out again, which opened the floodgates._

_Tears streamed down her face by the fortieth blow and every lash was accompanied by a stifled noise that North was desperately trying to keep inside._

_Abruptly the beating stopped and she could hear the heavy breathing of her tormentor. The men spoke and she could hear the shuffling of feet. She braced herself for the beating to continue._

_Footsteps led to the door and she heard it open and shut, along with the sliding clank of the bolt being rammed into place. They’d gone._

_North tried to see over her shoulder to make sure that they were no longer there, but the movement stretched the ripped and broken skin on her back too much and she hissed in pain. Blood was running down her forearms where the cuffs had cruelly bitten into her wrists and the bullet wound in her should was sluggishly bleeding again. Resting her forehead against the rock she tried to collect her thoughts, compartmentalize the pain and get her emotions under control._

_In the grand scheme of things, if that was the worst that they could deliver then this would be a walk in the park._

_Another tear slid down her cheek. And she thought about Clint and Phil and home._


	18. Chapter 18

Agent Phil Coulson sat at his desk in Stark Tower. He had previously been based at The Hub but since the battle of New York, he’d moved over to keep a closer eye on his charges. He nursed a small tumbler of whisky between his hands, turning it gently around and listening to the clink of the ice against the size of the glass. It was 2am but he wasn’t tired.

Personal relationships never worked in this job. It was a solitary calling. Having family and friends left you open and vulnerable. He had always managed to keep that side of life securely locked up. There had been dalliances, of course. When he'd worked in the Portland branch, he'd dated Anna, a professional cellist, for four months and had dared to hope it was going somewhere. But she believed that he was a mortgage advisor and then, of course, New York had happened and he'd died, which always put a dampener on any relationship. That had been over a year ago now. He'd never had a relationship where his partner knew everything that there was to know. He’d never been that pen with anyone before.

The closest that he came to personal relationships was with the Avengers. He was on first name terms with all of them, although he preferred to keep his distance and keep it formal. That way no one could accuse him of being unprofessional and, if there was one thing that Phil Coulson was, it was professional.

But she was different, always had been. In the six years since he’d met her, their relationship had moved so far. Alex North was an enigma and, although he’d given up trying to understand her, to figure out what motivated her and what drove her, he was comfortable in her company.

He had taken a personal interest in her training and her quick rise through the SHIELD ranks. He had watched as she’d proved herself, time after time, never failing and never faltering. She was like Natasha but with emotions, with feelings and with a smile.

Losing her in the MacLeod debacle was devastating. Having to order Barton onto the chopper and away from her, when all he’d wanted to do himself was wade in there and get her, was torturous. 

When Clint had arrived back at the Bus, he’d been furious, and rightly so. Squaring up on the landing ramp, the men had gone eye to eye, angry words being exchanged before Phil had had to order Clint to back down before he’d done something that he’d have regretted. In his heart, Phil felt he deserved it all and more. He’d willed Clint to hit him, to externalize some of the pain that he’d been feeling.

Fury had ordered them back to New York, but he’d refused, directly disobeyed an order. He’d stayed with the Bus in Turkey and worked tirelessly, with Clint by his side, for 17 days before being sure that he’d located her. 

During the course of those 17 days, they had come, although he hadn’t sent for them. One by one, they’d arrived. Of course they had. They were like magnets, pulled together to find one of their own. Whatever they’d been working on, wherever they’d be stationed, whichever operation they’d been taking part in, they’d dropped it all, much to Fury’s anger and chagrin. 

Coulson pushed back his chair and, picking up his glass of whisky, he strolled to the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked out across the lights of New York. They never went out, even at this time of the night. Always someone with somewhere to go. 

He rested his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes. He was concerned that even if North were to wake up, she would never be the same again. And the thought that he might have to lose her all over again caused a pain across his chest so hard that he exhaled with some force.

But if she never woke up, he would never be able to tell her how he felt about her. That he loved her with every fibre of his being.

 

\-----oo00oo------

The doctor stood silently at the end of the hospital bed, watching the gentle breathing of his patient. She remained in a critical condition but she was a fighter and he remained hopeful, if not optimistic. Her obs were being done hourly and showed a gradual improvement but not the leaps and bounds in recovery that they had hoped for. 

He didn't want her to remain in an induced coma for any longer than was completely necessary. It was his intention to begin to reduce the drugs tomorrow afternoon and monitor how her body reacted to the withdrawal. He knew that Agent Coulson was against this plan and that his preference was that Agent North was transferred to the recovery facility in Tahiti. The doctor shook his head, ruefully. If only Agent Coulson knew!

No, Agent North was very much on her own.

A nurse entered the room and quietly closed the door behind her. Standing alongside the doctor, she spoke quietly, as if speaking any louder would somehow wake the patient.

“The next watch is here.” She rolled her eyes silently, but the doctor could sense her sarcasm and impatience. 

“Which one? Not Dr Banner, I hope.” The doctor was nervous around the nuclear physicist, probably with good reason. 

”No, the soldier chap. Big shoulders, tight t-shirt.” She sounded vaguely appreciative.

Since Agent North had been admitted, one of the Avengers had always been at her bedside, sometimes doing nothing but sleeping themself. 

Looking through the window panel in the door the doctor could see Captain Steve Rogers in the corridor. He looked strained, running his hands through his short blond hair, his face screwed up in a frown. 

To be fair to Captain Rogers, the doctor thought, he was one of the easier ones to deal with. He had that old school charm and manners about him, never raised his voice and never got aggressive. And he always called the staff “Sir” and Ma’am.” Couldn’t fault his manners. He’d rather deal with him rather than Tony Stark any day of the week, despite Stark being the hospital’s main benefactor. Stark was abrasive at the best of times, and had been downright rude regarding the treatment of Agent North. The doctor could see that the other Avengers were concerned for their colleague but he was considering installing a sign that read “Rudeness and impatience will get you nowhere but evicted” as they did in coffee shops so often these days. 

“OK,” sighed the doctor. “Let him in.” 

The nurse moved back towards the door. 

“Nurse, wait,” the doctor turned towards her disappearing figure. “Who is marked as the next of kin for Agent North?”

“I’m not sure, Sir. I’ll find out for you.” She opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.

The doctor could see her talking to Captain Rogers, watched the super soldier shake his head and furrow his brow even further. He glanced up towards the doctor and briefly met his eye, before turning his attention back to the nurse. He shook his head once more and moved towards the door to the hospital room. 

 

\-----oo00oo------

With a silent flourish, Benny completed the equation. He put down his pencil and sighed, as if reaching the end of an exam. The notebook in front of him was covered with nuclear thermatic equations, scribbles, diagrams, doodles and a few coffee cup stains.

The coffee in the pot had long gone cold. 

Benny looked up and looked around. Stark was nowhere to be seen, but Dr Banner was asleep at the desk in the corner, his chair pushed back, arms crossed over his chest and his feet up on the table. He looked exhausted, his head flopping down onto his chest in fatigue. The dark circles around his eyes were testament to the strain that he was under.

Benny rather considered that if the two scientists weren’t so tired they would have hit upon the solution to stabilizing the wave patterns from the energy mass before now. Benny almost wished that they had so that Fury hadn’t needed to involve him. The Fury would have had to fight fires further down the line.

Again, Benny wondered how Fury could feasibly benefit from the failure of Stark and Banner to replicate Professor MacLeod’s formula. MacLeod had been on SHIELD’s payroll, attempting to recreate the ionic energy mass from the Tesseract in order to use the energy to fuel a battle-ending weapon. It was a totally hush-hush operation and one that certainly did not have the backing of everyone in the higher ranks in SHIELD. MacLeod had, by all accounts, been more than half way through his work when he had defected to Syria.

SHIELD still had MacLeod’s basic research but they hadn’t run with it before now because they had originally believed MacLeod had been taken against his will and had made the assumption that he would return and continue his work. Now they knew that was not the case and that MacLeod had been somewhere in enemy territory, working furiously to develop the weapon before the West had a chance to. 

Stark and Banner had believed that recreating the formula in some shape or form would serve to negate the effects of MacLeod’s own weapon. And they were right: when pulses from the two weapons met it would create an almost harmless fusion vacuum. But if one weapon existed without the other then you still had the potential for nuclear apocalypse. 

If Fury wanted to stop the production of the formula at the SHIELD end of the line then it could only mean one of two things: either MacLeod was dead and SHIELD had the weapon already, regardless of what stage of the research it was at. Or… or the weapon was not was it purported to be.

Benny’s eyes widened imperceptibly. If MacLeod’s research was not being done to harness the power of the Tesseract as a weapon, then what was his research about? What could possibly be more hush-hush than that? 

But now that Benny had the solution, he had to figure out a way to feed Stark and Banner the wrong calculation and make it believable. And not get caught. And not cause a nuclear grade explosion. And not have the Other Guy rip off his arms and legs.

Benny gently lowered his head onto the desk in front of him and momentarily enjoyed the feeling of the metal against his forehead.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings aplenty in this chapter. Please read with caution.

_The cold water caught Agent North by surprise. She fought to lift her head, struggling to understand where she was and why. She opened her eyes and then closed them again. The world was horizontal, her face pressed against the cold floor. She realised that at some point in the last hours as she hovered on the edge of consciousness the cuffs had been removed and she’d been released onto the floor of the cell but she had no recollection of it._

_More water hit her face and she gasped, shocked back into reality. She forced her eyes open again and saw four sets of military boots in her eye line. Rolling onto her front, North tried to push up, raise herself from the ground, but her right shoulder gave way and her cheekbone hit the hard concrete, sending a flourish of stars through her vision._

_A hand grabbed her hair at the back of her head and hauled her up onto her knees. The cold water mixed with blood and dripped from her hair into her eyes. She shook her head briefly to clear the water from her vision._ _The tatters of her black t-shirt fell forwards against her wrists, leaving her naked from the waist upwards, save for a sports bra, which pulled uncomfortably across her bloodied shoulder blades._

_The combination of movements tore at the skin on North’s back, aggravating bruises and opening up wounds. She winced and groaned, which seemed to please the soldiers that surrounded her, who broke out into a rapid-fire chatter._

_Hauling her up even further until she was on her feet and almost face to face with her tormentor, the soldier looked at her closely. The remnants of North’s t-shirt fell from her wrists to the floor, making the livid bruises across her stomach and ribcage visible._

_One of the men sniggered._

_“Are you ready to talk with us about your role within SHIELD? We promise to be much nicer if you do.”_

_North squinted at the man that held her through eyes that were nearly swollen shut. He wore a red and white shemagh around his head and military fatigues with a small black and white flag sewn onto the breast pocket._

_“Tempting offer, but, once again, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to decline.” She attempted a smirk, but the cut across her lip stung and it came out as more of a grimace. Tony would have given me an A for effort though, she thought._

_“I rather thought that was what you’d say.” The man holding her hair lifted his arm higher, until North’s feet were almost off the floor. She reached her left hand up, grabbing the man’s wrist to take some of the weight off of her scalp. Her feet scrabbled for purchase on the hard floor._

_“We still need the intelligence that you have, I’m afraid, Agent North. We need to know what your role within SHIELD is, what information you have on MacLeod’s research and who might be looking for you.”_

_“Well, that last one’s going to stir up a whole hornet’s nest for you. Trust me when I say that I was the softly-softly approach. You really don’t want the big guns coming in.” North remained secure in the knowledge that her Avenger colleagues would be coming for her. It was just a matter of lasting out until they arrived._

_“No one is going to find you, Agent North. Believe me.” The man smiled and looked across at the other men._

_“_ _D’you know what? That’s where you’re wrong. They are coming and they will find me and I imagine that it’s highly unlikely that they will allow you to live. So if I were you, I’d start running now.”_

_There was silence and then the man holding North aloft started to laugh. He spoke to the other men in Arabic and they began to laugh too._

_He released her hair and she dropped hard to her knees. Still laughing, two men stepped forward and grabbed her upper arms, roughly pulling her up onto her feet. They forced her arms behind her back, pinioning her hands between her shoulder blades. North exhaled quickly at the pain._

_The insurgent in the red and white headscarf turned suddenly and swung open the door, issuing instructions to his men in Arabic. North was hauled from the room, scrambling to get her footing and take the weight off of her arms. Wherever they were headed she was sure that it wasn’t going to be good news._

_The man on her right cruelly dug his fingers into the bullet wound on her shoulder as he twisted her arm further, forcing her forward, her feet dragging more often than she was managing to take steps. The man on her left obviously found her discomfort humorous, sniggering as he bent her arm across the open wounds on her back._

_North had every intention of being observant, of watching where they were going, but her head had been forced into a downwards position by the pressure of her arms behind her back and after a minute or two she gave up her attempts to lift her head and let it fall forward onto her chest._

_A clanking noise was followed by more conversation in Arabic, this time a new, deeper voice. North felt herself lifted off her feet and slammed back first onto a cold, hard surface. The breath was knocked out of her and the cry that had been forcing itself to the surface was stifled by her need to breathe. Red-hot pain sliced down her spine and across her shoulders._

_North’s hands and feet were stretched out and she could feel zip ties securing her to whatever she was lying on. She found herself fully horizontal, her arms pulled taut and her head lower than her feet. She swallowed, an unpleasant metallic taste forming in her mouth._

_“Hello, Agent North.” The new voice again. A deeper male voice, more authoritative, colder. She forced her eyes to open and take in her surroundings. Her view was limited by her position and her swollen eyes narrowed even further in the bright light. The speaker was an older, bearded Syrian._

_“Whilst a lie down is obviously very pleasant after the day I’ve had, I’d settle for a mattress and a bit of peace and quiet.” North’s Stark-like bravado was still in full flow._

_“_ _Ah, Agent North, ever the comedian. I’m afraid that a rest is not going to be possible. In fact, things are going to get a lot more uncomfortable for you, unless you can bring yourself to answer my friend’s very reasonable questions. Perhaps we could start with your role at SHIELD?”_

_North tilted her chin defiantly, almost imperceptibly and looked at him levelly. “Not going to happen. Nope.”_

_“We rather suspected that’s what you’d say.”_

_Before North knew what was happening a thin, muslin cloth had been stretched across her face and with panic beginning to rise from her stomach as she suddenly knew with certainty what was to follow. She started to fight hard against her restraints, to pull frantically at the zip ties that were securing her wrists and ankles._

_Whilst all SHIELD agents are trained in methods of torture, it seemed like decades ago that she’d undergone a mild simulated waterboarding at the Hub in New York. She scrambled to remember the techniques taught to her and continued to struggle the first wave of raw, cold water hit her face._

_The smack of the water made North gasp involuntarily, inhaling a large amount of water with no preparation. As the water flooded against her face, she fought, turning her head and twisting against her ties. She strained for breath, choking, as the flow of water seemed unstoppable. Water flooded down her throat, filled her nose and sinuses and stung her eyes, and oh, shit, she can’t breathe, she can’t draw breath, can’t fill her lungs. Her mouth and nose filled with water as she tried to rein in her panic and tried desperately to remind herself that she wasn’t actually underwater, that it would end soon._

_But it seemed endless._

_She coughed, the freezing water filling the back of her throat, and desperately tried to shrink away from the source of her suffering. She began to believe that she was actually going to die, here and now. She felt so numb that maybe she was actually dead already._

_Then the flow petered out, the cloth was removed and North coughed, choked, spitting water from her mouth, her body shivering uncontrollably from a mixture of cold and shock. The water ran from her nose and from the corner of her mouth and she rammed her head back into the board as hard as she could in white-hot anger and frustration._

_“Do it! Just fucking do it!” she gasped, breathless and frantic. She had felt like she was dying, had actually embraced the feeling for a split second and welcomed the feeling of harmony._

_“Agent North, listen carefully to my questions. I’m sure that you’d like to avoid a repeat of that activity. What is your role within SHIELD?”_

_“Fuck you!” North spat angrily, shivering uncontrollably._

_She was ready for the second onslaught, knew it would be coming and managed to take a brief breath before the cloth was replaced and the flow of water hit her face. Her jaw tightened and she tried again to turn her head away from the deluge. Pulling furiously against her ties, she expended her rage in her violent struggles, bucking her back up as far as she could. But she felt the exhaustion flooding over her as surely as the water continued to flow and her movements slowed down. She began to count slowly to focus her befuddled, swimming mind. The numbers came more slowly and spaced out until North was sure that she must be dead._

_The violent ringing in her ears told her that she wasn’t dead. The flood had stopped but she couldn’t rid herself of the sensation of pouring water. She continued to choke and struggle, spitting out water. She turned her head to the side, retching violently, vomiting nothing but water._

_“Agent North, what is your role within SHIELD?” That deep voice again. It had started to feel almost comforting, almost intimate, the rumbling reverberation close to her face._

_North felt rough hands on her stomach, across her chest, as a vicious set of shivers overcame her. She heard shouts in Arabic and laughter._

_“My colleagues believe that you have never looked prettier. They are quite keen to assist in warming you up.”_

_“F…f..fuck y…y...” North had little strength left. She felt cold to the bone, couldn’t get her shaking form under control._

_“And so we begin over.” North had no energy to brace herself. The nightmare continued, unabated. The cold water hit her again._

_And again._

_And again._

_She didn’t remember speaking aloud, although the two words had been swimming around in her mind for minutes, hours, possibly days. She had lost all track of where she was and who she was._

_But she must have spoken for cheering and clapping began, voices raised in celebration._

_North felt warm breath against her neck. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Agent North? And you have certainly given us something that was worth waiting for. Can you hear their voices? They are excited to have a member of the “Avengers Initiative” as our guest.”_

_North’s head slumped to one side in defeat, the tears that trickled from her eyes passing unnoticed amongst the deluge of water that surrounded her._


	20. Chapter 20

Something about meeting Director Fury at the coffee shop in the hospital seemed vaguely wrong to Benny. He had the good grace to feel ashamed when, two floors up, Agent North was fighting for he life and here was he potentially double-crossing her and the other Avengers. 

But Fury had insisted. He’d said that their meeting had to appear natural and what could be more natural that two SHIELD operatives chatting in the coffee shop at the hospital where’d they’d been to visit their colleague, Alex North.

“Update me.” Fury wasted no time with small talk or pleasantries. 

“I believe that I can stabilize the ionic energy mass, which is the missing puzzle piece that Stark and Banner have been searching for. I believe that they’d have figured it out already if they had been firing on all cylinders but they have been rather distracted by Agent North’s condition.” 

“Don’t give me half-hearted beliefs,’ snapped Fury. “Have you worked it out?”

“Yes.”

Fury scrubbed his hand across his face.

“Excellent. Now lose it and make sure that Banner and Stark don’t reach that point. Do you understand?”

Benny chewed the inside of his cheek, nervously. “But sir, how can I…?”

“I don’t give a fuck how. It is imperative that they do not complete that equation. Do you understand?”

Benny nodded, wordlessly. “Can I ask why?”

“No, you can’t. It’s so far above your clearance level, you’re gazing at the fucking stars. Just content yourself in knowing that it’s for the greater good.”

“I just don’t know how I’m supposed to remove what’s already in their brains. I mean, destroying the research is one thing but I can’t get to the back ups and these are smart men - they have much of the equation stored mentally. How am I expected to get at that? Please be reasonable, Director Fury.”

“And you’re just as smart, Pollack. After all, you’ve completed Dr MacLeod’s work and Stark and Banner haven’t got there yet. So I know that you can find a way. In the mean time, I have loose ends that I need to tie up.”

Fury finished his coffee, wincing slightly at the bitterness of the caffeine, and pushed his chair back. Placing his palms on the table, he leaned forward until he was inches away from Benny’s face.

“It would be bad to let me down, Pollack. Very bad. Unless you want to spend the remainder of your working life in the mailroom, then I suggest you sort this and that you do it as soon as possible.”  
Benny stared down into his untouched coffee and nodded.

\-----oo00oo------

“Mr Stark?” The dulcet tones of JARVIS echoed through the quiet R&D lab. 

Tony Stark blinked briefly and looked up from the image floating in front of him, suspended above his holographic work space.

“JARVIS?”

“I thought that you would want to know that Benny Pollack just met with Director Fury at the hospital coffee shop.”

“Ah, now that’s interesting.” Stark’s interest was peaked. “Do you have a transcript of their conversation?”

“Unfortunately not, Sir. Director Fury employed the new Stark Tech Signal Blockers.”

Tony ran his hand thoughtfully across his short beard. “Did he indeed? And why would he feel the need to do that?” He stood up and ghosted his hands across the holographic images in front of him. He cleared the equations that he had been studying.

“JARVIS, bring up CCTV images of the meeting.”

Almost instantly, slightly blurred still photos of Benny Pollack and Director Fury at the coffee shop appeared in the same above the holographic desk.

“Would you like me to run the video, Mr Stark?” The AI waited for the affirmative before the images began to move.

“And that’s even more interesting. From the way that Fury has positioned himself and Pollack there’s no way that we can lipread any of the conversation. JARVIS, are there any other camera angles?”

“Not that have any clearer image than the one playing, Sir. The coffee shop was not considered essential for full coverage.”

“Where are they now, JARVIS?” Stark queried.

“Mr Pollack appears to be heading back to Stark Tower and Director Fury is still within the hospital,” JARVIS monotoned. 

“JARVIS, get me everything that you know about Benny Pollack, including his shoe size and the colour of his underwear.” 

“Yes, sir. Would you like me to download it to your infoPad?” 

“Yep. And stick a copy into the holodesk database too. How soon is that done?” Stark was impatient. 

“Nearly completed it now, sir.”

Stark swiped his hands across the holographic workspace and cleared the hovering images. 

“And, Sir?” JARVIS interrupted.

“Yes, JARVIS?”

“Mr Pollack is wearing white underpants today.”


	21. Chapter 21

\-----oo00oo------

 

_The days began to roll into one. North spent as much time unconscious as awake and had long since lost the ability to track time._

_They had moved her twice since she had unwittingly revealed her position on the Avengers Initiative, trying to stay ahead of SHIELD surveillance. Whatever else SHIELD was, they remained loyal to their agents until the end. Although whether that was to rescue or neutralize couldn’t be said._

_Stripped to her underwear, North spiralled between fits of uncontrollable shivering to burning up from fever as infection took hold in her shoulder. She was handcuffed to a thick metal ring set in concrete on the floor of the room. Her back ached and wracking cramps spasmed in her legs from the uncomfortable position._

_North had tried not to lose hope, had tried to keep positive, but it was hard. She tried to keep her brain active by silently running through agent operative handbooks, exercise drills, every test paper she had ever sat in the name of SHIELD. She wordlessly recited lyrics to every song on her iPod._

_She mentally ran through manoeuvres and counter-manoeuvres for sparring with Steve and played imaginary hands of late night poker with Tony, although she could never be completely sure that he didn’t have additional help from JARVIS._

_She remembered how she’d been trying to introduce Thor to the finer points of Midgardian movies, starting with Alfred Hitchcock. They’d sit in companionable silence, a bucket of popcorn perched between them on Tony’s huge couch, and she’d point out the clever camera angles and use of framing. She worked on remembering all of the dialogue for Strangers on a Train, the film that they’d be watching when she’d been called to the Syria mission._

_She pictured her and Natasha disputing the use of Russian words in a game of Scrabble, Natasha insisting that they should count if it’s your native language. She tried to recall every Russian word that Natasha had ever tried to sneak past her and the points value on the Scrabble board._

_She saw herself poring over scientific research books with Bruce, struggling to understand as he laid it out in layman’s terms for her. She remembered his patience as he read through gamma equations for her one more time. She tried to remember the diagrams and their significance._

_She imagined herself at the archery range with Clint, could almost feel him behind her, his chest pressed against her spine as he reached around to help her align the arrow correctly. She could almost hear him growling quietly at her when he thought she was being too rough with the bow, could feel the low thrum of his voice as it vibrated down her back, could feel the tenseness of his arms as they tightened around her to the bow._

_And she saw Phil. The man that she trusted more than any in the world. She saw them standing shoulder to shoulder, breaking down their handguns and rebuilding them, an imperceptible race that she was sure he always let her win. She could see the pride in his face as she aced exams and excelled in field exercises. She tried to remember every weapon he’d ever introduced her to, every field strategy he’d ever insisted that she learn and the address of every SHIELD safe-house across the world. She struggled to hold onto the feeling of safety and security that he gave her._

_This was her life. It might not be much to some but it was the closest thing to family that she has ever known and she was damned if she was going to let some fucking two-bit terrorist outfit take it away from her._

_And so Agent North steadied her shoulders and tried to control the shivering, took a deep breath and worked on staying sane and staying alive._

 

\-----oo00oo------

 

“You are listed as the next of kin, is that correct?” The doctor shuffled his notes and looked up from his papers.

The man sitting opposite him seemed surprised. 

“I didn’t know… makes sense, I suppose… she just never said.” Coulson felt that he should have known this. He prided himself on knowing the files of his agents inside-out and yet he hadn’t know a basic fact like this. Although, to be fair, it had thankfully never come up before.

“The time has come to make some decisions and I’m afraid that those are going to be hard decisions to make.” The doctor looked serious.

“Lay it on the line for me, Doc. I’m not interested in hearing the censored version or the version designed to keep Dr Banner calm.”

“Can I sit down?”

Coulson nodded to the chair opposite him.

The doctor began by listing the injuries found on the agent at the point of extraction. It didn’t make for easy listening and Coulson visibly blanched at points. How anyone could treat another human being in this manner was beyond him. Coulson was grateful that the doctor was pulling no punches with his summary.

“In summary, when Agent North was brought to us 4 days ago, her prognosis was poor. The accumulation of injuries acquired over the previous 18 days, combined with the malnutrition and dehydration, have sent her system into severe shock. Her body is literally shutting itself down. The artificial coma that we placed her in should have helped her body to stabilise but she’s fighting it all the time. Despite the high dosage of anaesthesia, she won’t let her body rest. Her adrenaline levels have been difficult to stabilise and her brain activity remains high. We can’t get her to rest and her body can’t take it.”

None of this surprised Coulson. Agent North was driven and didn’t find it easy to slow down. She liked to be active and on the move. He could well imagine that the physical suffering and the continued restrictions on her freedom over the past three weeks had been agony for the energetic agent. 

“Is this common?” he asked the doctor.

The doctor shook his head. “I’ve hardly ever seen it before. In fact, just once.”

“And how did that end?” Somehow Coulson already knew the answer.

“Not well.”

Coulson exhaled heavily. He’d known that really but felt that he should ask.

“So what’s the next move?” Coulson looked at the doctor.

“I’m not sure that there is one.” The doctor looked resigned. “If she is fighting the treatment then we can’t help her. She is already at the highest level of anaesthesia that we can take her to. We don’t have many other options.”

“Fuck that!” Coulson’s hand slammed suddenly on the desk in front of him, startling the doctor. “I’m not giving up on her. She’s not giving up and neither are we.” He reached across the desk, jabbing at the commlink. 

“Jones!” he barked. “I want the team in here now!”

“Right away, sir,’ a disembodied voice, answered soothingly.

Coulson stood and reached out his hand to the doctor, who shook it tentatively. 

“I’ll be in touch shortly. Until then, you do nothing, is that understood?” 

“Yes..um.. sir.” The doctor’s eyes darted around, nervously. He stood and edged away from Coulson, reaching backwards towards the door handle, his eyes never leaving the blue eyes of the senior agent.

The doctor’s hand touched the door handle but before he could push it down, it spun out of his reach as the door was flung open. The imposing figure of Steve Rogers filled the doorframe. The doctor shrunk past him and made good his escape. Steve watched him leave.

“JARVIS?” said Coulson.

“Yes, sir?” The AI was ever alert.

“Track the good doctor and let me know if he goes anywhere near Agent North, ok?”

“Of course, sir.”

 

\-----oo00oo------

 


End file.
